Red Sky in the Morning
by seven days later
Summary: When Lisbon and Jane walk in on a cross-dressing banker murdered in his holiday home, Jane knows something is up. It's up to the team to figure out what 'up' is, and how exactly Red John fits into the picture. Now rewriting - author's note inside.
1. Set In My Perspective

Chapter one – Set in my perspective

I stared analytically at the crime scene in front of me. Well that's what I was supposed to be staring at. In reality, I was staring contemplatively at Patrick Jane. He had – through some means or another – located the victim's diary and was flicking through it absently, with a look of deep pondering on his face.

The victim was Perry Kolinsky, a middle aged banker who apparently, in Jane's opinion (I quote), 'liked his wife's cocktail dresses a bit more than any man ought to'. He was strung up in front of the kitchen entrance, wearing one of the aforementioned frocks, in his holiday home in the small damp village of West Parkville, a tiny gathering of dingy houses, a convenience store and a motel. There was no motive form the maid who found him – in fact, that meant she was out of business, so she was struck off of the suspect list. High up was the wife, and higher up was the sister in law, and on top there was the possibility that they pulled it off together, after facing the horror of his cross-dressing conduct. Mind you, I was not too keen on it either, but I was more caught up conjuring up the disturbing depiction of Rigsby wearing a ball gown…

"Boss, where do you want us?" He asked, and I snapped out of my Jane-staring and my envisioning-Rigsby-in-a-dress dazes to answer them.

"Cho and Van Pelt. Find the widow and sister in law and take them into interrogation. Rigsby, you are going to find the insurance people, I think they're a big part in this one-"

"They're not." Jane sang from across the hall. God that man has hearing like a bat's.

"What about Jane?"

"He's mine." I only realised the ambiguity of my statement after they has left. "…on this one." I muttered feebly.

"Lisbon?" he called through, and I hurried to his aid, hopeful that we wouldn't have to spend the night in the town motel, which has been rumoured to have food standard issues. I approached him in my overly manly gait, to mask the thoughts I had just had which involved me being _very_ feminine and him being _**very **_manly.

Jane didn't look up when I reached him. Instead he grinned at the diary and spoke,

"You're overcompensating for yourself again. I wonder what you were just thinking about…" I froze forgetting that he fed off nervous silences for information. No, he was bluffing.

"Cut the crap Jane. Personally I want to finish this case so I can leave this godforsaken dump." This earned me a glare from the local sheriff off to the left. Jane glanced at me, his interest piqued.

"Okay, what is your idea and how do I fit into the equation?"

"No idea, I was hoping you would come up with something. Work your psych or something." Oh god I cannot believe I just said that to another human being. It would have been bad enough if I'd just said it to myself. Jane grinned, fully this time. Oh god it's been a while… bollocks! I forgot he was a mind reader! Jane frowned at me slightly, than if possible his smile widened. "Uh…"

"You just –you're blushing!"

"I am not!"

"You are so! You just thought of something completely inappropriate for the workplace, I know you did don't try to deny it. Something which – if discovered as a spoken thought – would strip you of all dignity and sanity and reverence and your life would become extremely unpleasant…" he gave an exaggerated gasp which made me groan inwardly. "You're thinking of someone you work with… sexually!"

"Actually-"

"It's Cho isn't it?" I stared at him, not sure whether he was joking or not. Either he knew and he was just gloating to wind me up, or he didn't' know and he was winding me up anyway. I glared at him sternly.

"I was not thinking of anyone in the workplace like that I was thinking about the case. And even if I was…Cho? Seriously?" he grinned at me in his way that made me want to simultaneously faint and punch him in the nose.

"Exactly." Oh. So he did know and he's winding me up. He returned hi attention to the leather-bound book in his hands. "Van Pelt and Cho are not going to get anything from the wife or sister in law. Even if they did it they were not going to talk this way. They're the kind of people who need proof before they change their story and are not going to break just because we look at them threateningly.

"So where do we look, the mistress? The hooker? The…"

"The boyfriend should have an inkling." His eyes were sparkling with amusement. I felt my eyebrows raise slightly.

"The boyfriend." I did not sound surprised, which was apt because I was not surprised. I guess I'm just well prepared for the amount of utter crap which flows from Patrick Jane's mouth to actually react to it.

"Yes the boyfriend. Are you okay today you seem a little…" he raised his eyebrow suggestively, "preoccupied." Yes, he definitely knew. After another internal groan of anguish, I nodded unconvincingly.

"Yes I'm fine can we just concentrate on the problem at hand please? What did you call me over here for?" Jane returned once more to the book, and furrowed his brow in confusion – something which did not happen often.

"There is something too familiar about this all. It feels like a signature, but I'm not sure who's. Signature but not signature." I did not see anything evidential which enforced the familiar feeling, but I could not disagree that it was familiar, frighteningly so.

Jane's eyes widened and he paled.

"What? What's wrong? Who is it?"

"It's him!" Jane muttered. "He did it!"

"Who's he? Jane-"

"This was someone who was close to him." I was getting anxious about Jane's already depleted sense of reality, but also worried about where he might be headed. He turned to me, his face inches from mine, and he looked triumphant.

"Red John."


	2. It's all about sex

Chapter Two - It's _all_ about Sex

"But there are no signature marks on the body or in the crime scene-"

"That must mean that he considers this man too important to involve his 'Red John' identity in."

"That and there is too much forensic evidence against him."

"He comes here often. Maybe a friend of the family?"

"Maybe." I bit my lip nervously. Jane had made his intentions about Red John very clear, which was really the problem. You see, Patrick Jane had never before struck me as a violent man. Barking mad, of course, but never violent. However, when he had told me that one time about how he intended to exact his revenge, I did not doubt him one little bit, and neither did I now. As soon as Jane received a small hunch that Red John was amongst us, he would get to him, even if it killed him trying. On the other hand, if I took Jane off the case, there would be sizeable doubt about Red John's identity, who knew how to keep himself hidden. The serial killer may be able to disappear – free and unharmed to slink back into the shadows. I knew that Jane, if brought face to face with the killer, would know if it was him, I had no doubt about that. But killing him in the process is not part of CBI protocol.

Jane must have read my thoughts.

"I can compose myself even around scum like him."

"How do you know? No one knows, not even yourself, how you would react to that much… your need for revenge overpowers your sense of right and wrong, Jane."

"Oh I know it's wrong but that's not going to stop me. This is something I have to do." I understood his point, but I had to think professional, not personal. "Trust me on this." His beautiful blue eyes had almost persuaded me when my attention was snatched by the sound of the forensics van arriving.

"I'm sorry Jane, I really am. But when Red John comes along, I can't trust you and I do not want to be the one who has to arrest you, but I will if you try to get involved. I'm taking you off the case." Those beautiful blue eyes unmasked the anger within.

"I can do this, Lisbon, please Lisbon, please just let me…" I did not know whether the thoughts in my mind – which were jumping on semantics – were placed there by Jane or whether they were completely my creation. But if they were Jane's…wow.

"Go. Take my car and go home. Get some rest and you will feel better in the morning. I'll pick up my car in a couple of hours." I handed him my keys. "see a shrink." It was harsh, but it was also true. I just hoped that Jane could see far enough past his giant ego to know that it hurt me to say it. to my great surprise, he did not reply – he merely grabbed the keys and trudged off, hands deep in coat pockets.

It was only once he had driven off in my car, that I realised the diary which Jane had been poring over, had disappeared. And Jane's house was in the other direction.

"Oh crap." I voiced aloud, to the alarm of the local officers.

"Rachelle Carnegie, are you completely aware of what you are confessing to?" the slight woman nodded, auburn curls bouncing around her face.

"Yes, I am confessing to the murder of my husband's lover." Jane glanced sideways at Cho, with a slight shake of the head. He wasn't buying it.

"And why did you kill your husband's …boyfriend." I rolled my eyes at Cho's blatant homophobia.

"Don't call it a boyfriend. It was clearly nothing. He must have been confused, or concussed! He did take a hit to the head a couple of weeks back." Jane shrugged.

"Well it says in the victim's diary that your husband and he had been… involved, for just over two years now. How did you find out?"

"Well, Mister Jane, Agent Cho," she began dramatically, "Last weekend I received a call from the, I'll use your word, _victim_, about Art. He proceeded to tell me what Art was doing when I was at yoga two times a week!" her face crumpled, yet not in a way which may make her seem unattractive.

"Which," Jane added, looking amused "is the exact same thing that you did with Perry _three_ times a week when your husband had golf." Jane commented. Rachelle's face straightened out and stuck her nose in the air, her tone lower and testier.

"I was coming to that."

"Well obviously not exactly the same thing." Jane added suggestively. Rachelle glared at him, embarrassed.

"Wait a minute," Cho broke his emotionless stare. "Are you telling me that you _and_ your husband were screwing the _same_ guy?" Rachelle huffed and crossed her arms.

"To put it delicately, yes. But I did not know that it was Perry who was Art's bit on the side. I just thought they were friends."

"Then why did you murder him?" Rachelle sighed.

"Oh bollocks. I suppose I didn't then." She sounded almost disappointed.

"Then why on earth would you want anyone to think that you did?" Rachelle shrugged, resigned, her brow furrowed.

"Prison seems like a good way to meet new people. My social life is almost non existent, now that everyone knows what Art did. I'm single now, you know." She added, to Cho, who shrank back in pure terror. Jane laughed aloud.

"You decided that you would put yourself in prison… to meet new people?" he shook his head, grinning widely.

"So do you have anyone to lie with at the moment, Agent Cho?" Cho's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

Watching all of this through the glass, I decided that I really should put an end to Cho's discomfort, however amusing I found it. I poked my head through the door into the interrogation room.

"You do realise that wasting police time is a crime." Rachelle's eyes lit up.

"So I will go to jail?" Jane chuckled.

"No, but a shrink wouldn't go amiss. You are free to go."

"Forever." Cho muttered, and Jane laughed loudly. Even I had to smile as I led the dysfunctional woman out of the door, and into the hands of the police escorts, who had no idea who or indeed what I was bestowing onto them.

"Poor buggers." I muttered sympathetically as she fluttered her eyelashes at them.

"Well that was a dead end if ever I've seen one." Van Pelt announced.

"I still can't believe they are having an affair with the same person. It's absurd! She must have been lying." Cho babbled, still edgy.

"No lying." Clarified Jane. "But sure would be embarrassing if anyone ever found out."

"Why would the victim call Mrs. Carnegie and tell her that he's having an affair with Mr. Carnegie?" Never thought I'd ever be saying that.

"I concur; it does not make much sense." Rigby added. Jane just stared at him.

"You concur? Do you even know what that means?" Rigsby glared, and Van Pelt frowned defensively at Jane.

"Maybe he just decided to walk one path, if you know what I mean." I wrinkled my nose at Jane's uncouth comment. "Seriously though, I think that he was just jealous of what Art had with his wife, since he was getting divorced from his own." I raised my eyebrow quizzically. Jane grinned, and my abdomen contracted sharply. "It was in his diary." He explained.

"You should question the wife." Cho suggested. Rigsby smirked.

"You're not in on this one? I rather thought you were enjoying yourself with Mrs. Carnegie." He commented, and Cho glared.

"Yeah well it's your turn to be harassed. Have fun." Van Pelt waved her arms.

"Hello? I've already done it. Watch the tapes, Jane, but I'm pretty sure that she isn't lying. Solid alibi, sister, maid, children, gardener-" Jane raised his eyebrows.

"At almost midnight?"

"The female gardener, the sister, the maid and the wife are all good friends. They checked in on the children then went out for an anniversary party which they were all seen at. We're back to square one."

"So all that remains is the boyfriend." Leaning on Jane's assumption that Red John was not gay, I let him sit in while we questioned Arthur Carnegie.

Carnegie was five foot eleven with a strong jaw and masculine features. No rainbow vest of high heeled shoes, which almost disappointed me. My thoughts ran away with me sometimes.

"Mr. Carnegie, may I ask you how long you have been acquainted to the victim?" Jane asked.

"Don't call him that! He was a human being! He has a name and it is Perry."

"Just answer the question." I said calmly.

"As lovers? Around two years. As friends? About five." He smiled nostalgically. "I was so happy when he first revealed himself to me." Cho's eyes bugged and although he showed no clear emotion I could tell that Jane was laughing inside.

"As a homosexual, like you?" Carnegie looked baffled, thankfully not noticing the immaturity of my colleagues.

"Why yes, what else could I mean?"

"Right then. Did he ever tell you about any enemies or hostilities at home or at work?"

"He told me he was going to leave his wife for me but I did not want him to. I thought that if I refused to leave my wife for him, then he would think sensibly."

"So he ratted you out."

"Yes, but I'm not angry."

"Why would you want him to stay with his wife?" Carnegie smiled, and rearranged his expensive looking tie.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved Perry more than life itself. But if we showed everyone who we truly are, then both of our professional credibility would sink. They may become unsalvageable. He was about to sign over half his company to another company. Once that was done and dusted, we would become a couple. We agreed that divorce was perfect; we just had to wait for a couple of weeks. We've had to sneak around for years – a couple more weeks wouldn't kill us, especially if it meant we could be together."

"So it did not bother you, that he was ashamed of your relationship."

"Like I said, I'm just glad we could finally be together."

"I see. That will be all, unless you have any names or anything else you would like to add."

"Not really. But if there is anything else which I can do to help, you can reach me on my cell." I smiled, hoping the man was fooled by its warmth.

"Thank you, you have been extremely helpful." I was just about to stand up and leave, when Jane interrupted. Christ.

"Just one thing, did Perry ever indulge in wearing… dresses?" Cho looked as if his eyeballs were about to pop out of his head in mortification.

"Not that he did with me. It was just pure animal sex." Cho's mouth opened a little in horror, and Jane smiled slightly.

"Thank you. Your contribution is much appreciated." I rolled my eyes.

"So what about the huge contract sign off?" I asked Rigsby. We had decided to take a new look on things, since the motive of sexual jealousy did not work out. Professional jealousy was most likely the next best thing, although personally I could not see a banker who most likely works 24/7 in an office environment having the physical strength to haul another fully grown man up to a very high ceiling.

"Well I looked into it, and he was allegedly arguing with his soon to be partner, Graham Merrinold the night of his murder. The receptionist said that the janitor said that the maid said that the other janitor said-"

"Get to the point Rigsby."

"The victim said that he did not want to sign off to someone like Merrinold." Everyone fell into silence, to speculate wildly and think about the variables.

"Anyone know what that means?" Cho finally ventured.

"I'll go see what I can get out of the security footage. We might hit something."

"And Merrinold?" I asked, hoping that they were on the ball today because quite frankly I was exhausted.

"We're still tracing him. But his receptionist says that he was on L.A the night of the murder, at a conference which went hours over schedule. He stayed at a popular hotel, still checking for confirmation on that." Van Pelt informed me.

"He could have hired a hit man."

"Wasn't a hit man, Lisbon." Jane called from the couch. I jumped, and then tried to cover up my surprise by retorting.

"I suppose you know who it is then." Jane popped into sight, almost falling off the couch.

"I need to see the holiday home for confirmation." I rolled my eyes. He didn't know.

"I do." He replied to my thought. I wasn't that predictable, was I?

"Yes you are." He answered again, and my thoughts turned mean. He was obviously predicted this too, because he had positioned himself with Rigsby and Cho between us. They would totally move if I took out my gun.

"Right then Cho. You can go with Jane to the crime scene and get your information. Try to make sure he doesn't so anything stupid." Cho snorted.

"I'm not Superman, boss." I sighed. He was right of course, although I doubted even Superman could keep that man out of trouble. It follows him around.

"You're going to have to come with me." Jane goaded, enjoying my discomfort.

"I keep you in line?" Rigsby laughed at my cynicism.

"You should see him when you're not around." Oh bollocks here we go again. I just couldn't wait to see what trouble Jane was planning on getting us in this time.

"Mrs. Kolinsky, I am Senior Agent Lisbon. This is Agent Cho and-" I looked behind me, but Jane was gone. "And the man wandering around aimlessly is Mr. Jane, our consultant." Cho huffed on his hands to keep them warm.

"Is your boiler not working?" I asked, noticing too that it was very cold in the house, even for late November.

"No, I just woke up. I'm still a little in shock, the doctor says, and I don't really get all that cold."

"I can go put the heating on for you." Cho suggested, deciding that the man should do it. But the widow shook her head.

"No, but thank you very much, Agent Cho. But I can make you – and Mister Jane if he decides to join us – a cup of tea to keep you warm." We smiled and nodded politely.

"That would be lovely, thanks!" Jane's voice wafted down the stairwell. Mrs. Kolinsky smiled slightly.

"Has hearing like a bat, that one." I smiled wryly, agreeing heartily.


	3. The Widow and the Holiday Home

Chapter Three – The Widow and the Holiday Home

I left Cho to do the routine questioning while I went in search of Jane, lest he invoke another law suit upon my department. I found him sitting in the floor of a cupboard, smiling happily. Not decisive on whether or not he was sane, I knocked on the open door to attract his attention.

"Jane, what are you doing?" he smiled up at me absently.

"Getting into character. In fact, Perry Kolinsky used to sit here all the time. In his diary he called it his 'special place'." I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure that's what he meant?" he grinned, catching my innuendo loud and clear.

"Positive. Business meetings were frequently held in the town hall just down the street, so he must have come along here quite frequently. I think it is fair to say he stayed here a lot, allegedly alone."

"Yes, that's what the maid said." Jane pointed to a carton protruding from underneath the double bed.

"Not as alone as she said. There is also some medication in the bedside drawer. Chlamydia."

"Nasty." I say that as if I'd know – which I don't but there was a scare a couple of years back… "Now the victim wasn't a carrier of any STIs, and neither were the Carnegies, so…"

"Or, the widow isn't as innocent as she looks." I smiled.

"Let's see what else is under the bed, shall we?"

The total came up to the condoms, a ripped summer dress, three white dress shirts and a windbreaker embroidered with initials which spelt JIZ – much to the amusement of Jane - , three white socks, two black socks and one black and white sock, a pair of purple briefs which may or may not have belonged to Perry Kolinsky, and a pillow with holes stabbed into it, the goose feather stuffing escaping.

"I wonder what happened here." I prodded aloud, motioning to the pillow.

"Hmm. Someone has anger management problems." He replied, deep in thought.

"Or maybe role-play." Oh shit. I mentally slapped myself. It had just slipped out of my mouth, before my mind had time to realise that I was going to say anything at all. I knew that it was only a matter of time until Jane leapt upon it and sucked the moment dry…

"Or an attempted murder – wait a second. You have knives in role-play?" I felt my cheeks redden instantly, and I tensed, angry that I could fend of dozens of bloodsucking bureaucrats and board members but when it came to Patrick Jane, just one could make me shrivel up and die inside. On second thoughts, it was just as well there was only one of Jane, because if there was more that one, even I would not be able to plough through all the bullshit.

"No, well, not me personally, but you know, some people like the drama…" he grinned at me and I got the distinct feeling that I just made things worse for myself. "The case, Jane, concentrate on the case."

"Right." Without another word, Jane exited descending the stairs at seeming leisure yet keeping ahead of me.

"Jane! Where are – Jane!" I followed him into the kitchen, where the plainly dressed widow was sipping tea with Cho.

"Yes but Wal-Mart is much more convenient for me personally-" Cho looked guilty that he had been caught debating about supermarkets by his boss, but I just stifled a smile.

"Agent Lisbon, Agent Jane-"

"Mister Jane. No agent." I corrected her quickly, lest she mistook Jane for a trained government official.

"So Mrs. Kolinsky." Jane continued, ignoring me. "How long have you been screwing John Zelphino?" She looked truly shocked though whether it was in a 'caught-in-the-act' way or an indignantly innocent way, I did not know. I groaned inwardly. Mrs. Kolinsky did not seem to be the one which I could imagine hiring expensive lawyers to get Jane fired, but Jane had this annoying way of making other people feel unlike themselves. Well he did that with me, anyway. Yet, maybe that was just in addition to me wanting to kill him.

"Mr. Jane, I do beg your pardon!" Jane sat down, without invitation – and put his feet up on the table, angering the widow further.

"You heard me. I'm right though, aren't I? I'm always right." I rolled my eyes at Jane's arrogance.

"Well I'm afraid this time you are mistaken. I met John a couple of times. But I was faithful to my husband."

"You're just saying that because now you're guilty about him going off and dying without him even knowing about your infidelities." The widow mouthed wordlessly. I had, by now, cottoned onto what Jane was attempting to do. By purposefully being everything Mrs. Kolinsky hated – arrogant, discourteous, and insensitive – Jane was winding her up like a twist-up toy. He would get his desired reaction due to the colour that Mrs. Kolinsky's face was going, but I feared he might pick up another law suit on the way there.

"I resent the implication-"

"Stop trying to cover your own ass. Badly, may I add." Yup. He was the itch underneath her skin which, try as she might, she could never quite scratch.

"Mister Jane!" the tone in her voice warned him that if he continued to talk to her in that manner, sharp implements and liquid nitrogen may be involved. Well that's certainly what I thought of when Jane annoyed me, but then again, my childhood doctor told me I had a certain susceptibility to rage. "I have a good mind to file a formal complaint!" this was my cue to step in.

"Mrs. Kolinsky, I apologise profusely, on behalf of Mr. Jane. He does not mean any offence-"

"Yes I do."

"Jane!" Jane smiled, and picked up his cup of tea, stirring it absently with the teaspoon provided.

"I'm afraid that little dance was necessary. You are now eliminated from our suspect pool. You are having an affair with John Iago Zelphino, but you did not murder your husband, and you most definitely did not have the physical strength to display him in such a position as he was found in." mentally, I slapped myself in the forehead. I shouldn't have even brought Jane, I knew better than anyone that he just causes trouble. I also know that he gets results. Wavering between the two, I was still unsure as to whether it was a pro or a con, keeping him around.

Mrs. Kolinsky stared at Jane incredulously, as though she could not quite believe that he had actually said that out loud. More often than not, Jane's outlandish accusations were one hundred percent true, but hunches alone did not stand up in court.

"Jane, you can't just make accusations like that!" I hissed sideways at him, but he was too busy holding Mrs. Kolinsky's eye contact to contradict me, as he usually did. "Take it back!" I urged him, but the widow interrupted me.

"No, it's true." I closed my eyes, barely believing my ears. How the hell did he do that? One conversation and people reveal their innermost secrets. "John came home with Perry one night." She continued, as I elbowed Jane in the ribs warningly. "My husband, the silly man, had forgotten the proposition which John had given him on paper. John needed it back for the morning. We were in the holiday home – the kids were staying with Perry's sister because they wanted to see their new pet dog. John stayed for dinner, but then Perry had to leave in a rush. He told John to stay and we should get acquainted." She smirked slightly. "So we did."

"Your husband knew about your affair with Mr. Zelphino?"

"Well yes, I think so. He wasn't angry – well if he was, he didn't confront me about it. I suppose he saw it this way – if he was allowed to have his fun, then why shouldn't I? Perry knew that he wasn't making me happy anymore, and he was a good man. He wanted me to be happy."

"But you knew about his affairs." The widow looked up, alarmed.

"I knew about Art. Were there others?" I was surprised that she not only used Arthur Carnegie's first name, but also that she used the shortened version.

"Rachelle Carnegie." Mrs. Kolinsky looked vaguely nauseated.

"At… at the same time?" wow, we forgot to ask if that had ever happened. Maybe that was just too weird, though.

"No ma'am. Neither knew the other was involved with your husband." Cho assured her, and she looked close to tears.

"So you knew about your husband being… you know…"

"Gay? Yes, I'd known for a while. I'd always known he was different. No other man I had been with had been like that. He was different sexually, emotionally, but I found it exciting. That he had chosen me over his preferred gender." I could see the cogs in Cho's mind working overtime as they wondered just how women could find gay men so attractive, or in any way exciting. Personally I didn't see it either, but I'd had a gay boyfriend before and I knew where she was coming from with the difference sexually. I decided to stop thinking about it because Jane was looking at me curiously. "However, I never thought, in a million years, that he would leave me for a man!"

That really left me thinking about how truly rare this situation was. It was going to be one hell of a story to tell in the courtroom. I could tell by the look on Cho's face that he was thinking the same. Only God knew what Jane was thinking, and I for one, was quite happy to keep it that way.

"My marriage died, a long time ago. Since then, it's all just been posturing." She bit her lip, and I noted the box of tissues nearby. Tissues always came in handy in a murder investigation. And sure enough…

"Oh God, I feel so stupid!" she bawled suddenly, and I handed her a tissue from the box above the dishwasher. She blew her nose and sniffed again, not looking at me, Cho or Jane. But there was another string which had no end in my mind.

"If you'll excuse me, I have another question for you." The widow looked up, her eyes red and puffy "what's with the pillow in the master bedroom? It has lots of holes in it." she glanced at the stairs, as if she could see up them and into the master bedroom from this distance. She looked baffled – and from what I could tell, she wasn't faking it.

"I'm sorry; I usually use the second largest bedroom. The view is just beautiful, and you don't get the noise from the kids playing on the street. I haven't cleaned out the master bedroom yet – that was Perry's place to stay. Why would I be in there? And what do you mean holes in the pillow? What kind of holes in the pillow? You mean, like a stabbing? Was Perry stabbed? Did Perry stab someone?" Oh God we have released a question avalanche. I hated it when this happened.

"We are still investigating the cause. Thank you for your cooperation." We started to move towards the door, but Jane halted us, me with a hand on the shoulder and Cho with his voice.

"Wait one moment. Mrs. Kolinsky, just one more question, if that's okay with you." The widow nodded tearfully.

"Sure. Whatever you want, I'm here."

"Do you have a personal contact number for Mr. Zelphino?" she looked around herself furtively, as if making sure that there was no one else in her house, listening in.

"Well yes, I do. But I must warn you, he told me only to call this number if…" she leant towards Jane and whispered so quietly we had to lean in too to hear. "If I was alone, randy and completely starkers" she leant back, and nodded. "His exact words."

Cho ran into the door on the way out.


	4. So This is What you call Progress?

Chapter Four – So this is what you call progress?

"Mr. Zelphino, I'm glad you could make it." I said, trying my best not to sound sarcastic. Zelphino said nothing, but he smirked at me as if he knew something that I did not, which made me very uneasy. Even Jane was silent in my earpiece, concentrating with every fibre of his being on analysing the man sitting across from me over the cold steel table. If this was Red John, if this man was the serial killer whom we had been hunting for years, then his purpose would be done. He would have nothing more to live for – that was my fear.

"Are you going to ask me anything or are you going to just sit there, staring at me? I know I'm easy on the eyes, but I do have modesty." Could've fooled me.

"He did not just say that." I heard Rigsby say into my earpiece. "I cannot believe he just said that."

"What a jerk." Agreed Van Pelt, but Jane remained silent.

Objectively thinking, Zelphino had a good reason for being so up his own arse. He was extremely handsome, exceedingly rich, and oozed charm out of every orifice. However a man who was so obsessed with his own looks that he gets a weekly manicure, has a home gym and hair stylists, is going a bit over the top. See how reviewing a man's bank details put you off him for life? He had only said one thing to me, but it made me dislike him strongly, for I have decided only to use the word hate in event of really serious loathing.

"Mr. Zelphino, you were having an affair with Mrs. Kolinsky, correct?" He nodded slowly, but I could tell he was thinking very carefully about what he was saying. I got the distinct feeling he had to keep what he was saying in check; otherwise his overly large mouth may get him into trouble.

"That is correct, Mrs. Lisbon. Or is it Miss?" He asked, with a crooked smile which I may have found attractive had I not just been sick in my mouth.

"Agent Lisbon." He smiled, and his teeth sparkled. I decided I would rather have sex with Cho.

"Alright then Agent Lisbon. I have already informed you of why I am here. I am deeply saddened by Perry's misfortune." Misfortune? The guy was shredded! "I have sent my condolences to Perry's wife."

"Yes, we heard. We also heard about what your condolences consist of." Zelphino's face fell visibly.

"I would prefer if this was not publicised. I am a married man, of professional integrity." I did not let any expression find it's way onto my face.

"I'm sure you were until you had an affair with your business partner's wife." I cursed myself for letting my mouth take the lead, without consulting my brain first. Legally, I could not tell his wife about the affair without just cause. And the only way this man could piss me off more was if he filed a law suit against my department. Hence why Jane was not in the room.

"Mr. Zelphino. Tell me about this contract you and Perry were about to sign." Zelphino's eyebrows shot up.

"The business contract? That's irrelevant to your investigation. Yes it was a big deal, and a lot of money, but really, Perry's death has just set us back almost half a year. We have to re edit the contract, and appoint a new leader of his department, and redo all the necessary paperwork. Not to mention that we were only two of the seven who were signing that contract, and two of the twenty who approved it. that is a dead line of inquiry." I watched him analytically, but really, I did not know whether he was lying or not. You can never really tell with bankers.

"Leave that line; I think he's telling the truth." Jane's soft voice whispered in my ear. He sounded as serious as I had ever heard him.

"So what is your theory exactly? I killed Perry so that my lover will hate me and my colleagues would hate me and I would be up to my eyes in paperwork? I have nothing real to gain. Adultery is the only thing I have ever done wrong."

"Perry Kolinsky was the head of his department. Is there anyone who you think would want to do him harm?"

"Being head of a department is nothing special. There are fifteen of them throughout the company. My company." The defensive tone in his voice disappeared, and it became deeper, manlier. "I'm president of the whole company."

"I know, I've read your file."

"Listen, I want to help. But I may become non responsive if you keep accusing me of murder. If you have any sense, you won't keep me overnight, you will keep your goons away from me, and you will not talk to me under such formal circumstances in future, people may speculate." A small, sleazy smirk crept onto his face. "But you're free to handcuff me in private though. Then I will be very responsive." If Jane did not make playful remarks every day, I would not have the capacity to respond to this one without shooting Zelphino.

"All I want from you is your information. If you have no more useful information, and you keep making remarks like the one you just used, I will be forced to press charges of sexual harassment. I will only help you if you help me. Otherwise you will be spending a night in a cell, and not for murder." His confidence waned, I could tell, but his smirk did not budge.

"I agree with your terms, Agent Lisbon. I hope I will be seeing you again soon." I stood up, barely able to harness my fury. Cho's voice piped up in my ear, clearly on a whim.

"Ask him why he arranged a secure money transfer with one Michael Falcon for fifty thousand dollars. Private account set up with only that transfer." I was almost out the door, so I turned, file still in hand. He looked at me, and he looked wary, as if frightened that I was going to change my mind and stick him in a jail cell.

"One last question, Mr. Zelphino. We have your back details, and we would like you to clear up a couple of things, before we get the wrong idea." This made him edgy. He began fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"Of course. What's the problem?"

"We were just wondering why you paid Michael Falcon five thousand dollars in your secret offshore account. Care to shed some light on the subject?" Zelphino's face relaxed slightly – I didn't have to be a mentalist to notice that.

"I would like to speak to my lawyer before proceeding with this interview." He looked at me coldly, and I felt as if he could see right through me. I suppressed a shiver. "I know my rights."

"Listen if you're not guilty of anything but cheating on your wife; tell us why you gave him that money. It's that simple. We will leave you alone. If you have done nothing wrong, then tell us and we can let all this be." Zelphino stared at me for a very long time.

"I would like to speak to my lawyer before proceeding with this interview. I know my rights." He repeated, his voice devoid of all emotion. I felt an overwhelming sense of failure, and fatigue. My legs threatened to buckle below me, so I decided to get out of there. I no longer disliked this man – nor did I hate him. My feelings for him are closer to loathing.

I exited the room, and blew a sigh.

"That was completely out of order." Van Pelt assured me, and Rigsby nodded his agreement. Jane did not say anything, but he held my eye long enough to let me know that he was unsettled. I was not acting myself, hence throwing his world off-balance. He was the one who threw lewd comments my way, and dodged my questions, and I was the one who attempted to control him. That was the way it had always worked, and that is the way that it always will. I was not myself – maybe it was the stress of the importance of the case, or maybe it was just the considerable lack of sleep I have been suffering from the past few weeks. Either way, something was out of the ordinary, and to tell you the truth, I disliked it as much as Jane did.

"Van Pelt. Dig up the rest of Zelphino's bank records, and his phone records the night Kolinsky died, and around check for any in the last three months which might link him to Michael Falcon. Rigsby, you're on who Michael Falcon is. Cho?"

"Cho's checking out the rest of the viable Red Johns in Zelphino's company. Right age, right background, sufficient connection, that kind of thing. You really want me to go through the last three months on a banker's phone records? Boss, that's like a hundred phone calls a day."

"You should get started then." Van Pelt seemed to sense that I was stressed, and let this one go. She walked out the room, and Rigsby followed, munching on something or another. I frowned. Where was Jane? He had been here a moment ago…

I found Jane in my office, deep in thought. He noted my entrance, but did not seem to notice my expectant stare. I decided to give him a prompt.

"Well?" He seemed to snap back to reality and raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Well what?"

"Well what did you think about Zelphino?" My heart was in my throat. Jane's decisions were almost never based on fact, and if he did think John Zelphino was Red John, then we would have some time explaining that to a jury. We had nothing but adultery on Zelphino, and we were unlikely to find anything else now he had requested a lawyer.

"Well I think that he wants us to think that he is Red John." Whoa, back up there.

"Why would he want that?" Jane gave me a very superior glance.

"Why should I know? You do realise that I cannot actually read minds, and it's all just a bunch of crap, don't you?" His voice had risen slightly in volume.

"Don't speak to me like this, I want same thing as you. No point mouthing off at me when I can help you." He rubbed his face distractedly.

"I know. But I don't know why he wants that. Maybe I misinterpreted. I couldn't get enough because I wasn't in there with him." He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes which I really did not like.

"Jane you know that I can't let you go in there. I can let you watch, but that's it." He did not ask why I was not letting him go in. He knew why.

"Fine, but I want you to do me a favour, and I need you to do this as if you are doing so without my knowledge." I eyed him suspiciously, and sat down at my desk, giving my weary legs a rest.

"And may I ask what this favour would be?"

"I want you to ask Van Pelt to cross reference all possible contacts between Perry Kolinksy, John Zelphino and Katherine Jane." My head snapped up, and my neck made an ominous sound.

"Your wife?" _Yes of course his wife you idiot, how many other Katherine Janes do you know? _Jane nodded soberly.

"Red John knew her personally too. He added things which he didn't add on anyone else. We know Red John didn't want us to know that he knew Perry Kolinsky because he masked his identity. I know Zelphino is involved, I'm just not sure how." He glanced around himself, and I could feel his calm evaporating rapidly. "Listen, I know this a lot to ask-"

"Too much Jane, we're short on manpower as it is, I'm not going to spare Van Pelt. She's the best at sifting through data, and I already have her on the phone records. Plus, even if we do cross reference every single place these people go, there is no sure way to know if they ever met, or talked together, at least not in any way which may have involved Red John. You just don't know, Jane." He stared hard at the floor, and I felt very guilty. He had made this his purpose, and he was going to stick to it, with my help or without. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Lisbon." An almost smile made its way onto my face, but I banished it immediately.

"I'll bring someone else in."

"I want Van Pelt to do it."

"I said I'd bring someone in-"

"I don't want anyone else I want Van Pelt to do it." My frustration was mounting, and I balled my fists under the table. "Bring someone in then get them to take over the phone records. Free up Van Pelt." Would that work?

"Minelli's going to ask questions."

"Then let Minelli ask questions. Please Lisbon, I promise this will bring us an answer." I rubbed my face. I felt like screaming, or crying, or killing someone.

"Fine Jane, I'll bring someone in. this had better work…" I left the threat hanging. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Usually, there is a small smile, a crinkle beside the eyes, but right now there was nothing. His clear blue eyes showed gratitude – and his face weariness. I'm sure mine did much the same. He turned sharply and exited, without looking back. I placed my head in my hands, and willed myself to stay awake. The day had been testing so far, and it was only at the halfway mark. I still had to convince Minelli to send over a tech from a nearby department. _That'll be fun,_ I thought bitterly.

I don't know why I put up with Jane. Maybe it is because I tell myself he brings results. He also brings forth an avalanche of law suits against my department. Maybe it is because I tell myself that he is an asset to my team, he keeps their spirits high, and has secured their trust and loyalty, which is something which not a lot of people can do, especially with Cho. To tell the absolute truth, I do not have a bloody clue why I put up with Patrick Jane. But I do.


	5. Not one of my better moments

Chapter five - Not one of my Better Moments

I threw myself down in my chair heatedly, and rested my head none to gently on my hardwood desk. Van Pelt was a resource, and a bloody good on at that. Was it really worth giving up her precious time to satisfy one of Jane's hunches? Mind you, when was the man ever wrong? I snorted quietly. He had been wrong plenty of times. Just none that immediately came to mind.

Minelli had said he was sending someone over from a nearby department but to tell you the truth, I did not trust anyone who was not on my team. As much as I hated to admit it, I love them all. There's evena little place deep in my heart for Rigsby. They were my guys. Sometimes Van Pelt would get too involved and girly, and the way Rigsby was always out to assert his manliness was wearing me down slightly, and Cho, he could sometimes be a pain in the ass with his dry humour. Jane however, he was a pain in the ass 27/7. They were morons sometimes, but they were always my morons. In a way, they were my constant. Sometimes I felt so fond of them that they were almost like family.

Suddenly lifting my head in horror, I shut out that thought. Putting my small squishy moment down to hormones, I laid it back down, and softly banged it against my desk multiple times. Damn I hated hormones. Natural enemy number one. Except for emotion; that could be bad too. I shuddered at the thought.

There was a knock on the door to the office and I looked up, deciding that it was perhaps time to face someone this fine morning. Not that I particularly wanted to, but it just might be important. On the other hand, it might be Jane. I decided to take a chance and let whoever it was enter.

"Come in." I called, putting on an adequately aware façade. I even took the effort to look like I was working, and pulled out a pen to hold it to a random piece of paper. Plus, if this was actually Jane, he probably would have made a more musical knock. The one used was not nearly irritating enough to really be the mentalist himself.

And when the man entered, he most certainly was not like any other man I had ever met before. I straightened up, pleased beyond hell that I had chosen to allow him in. He was in perfect physical shape and of handsome appearance… no, it was more like beauty. Despite his clear manliness, he was decidedly pretty more than anything else.

"Can I help you?" I said, with renewed vigour and a marginally less whitewashed spirit. He smiled and I think I may have drooled a little. I'm not one to be easily taken in by good looks, but this man would be an exception for everyone. Males included.

I could see Van Pelt making a show of eyeing him up, then winking at me and doing some very inappropriate hand gestures through the open door to my office. The look on the passing Cho's face was utterly priceless; as many of Cho's bewildered expressions were. Even Rigsby pretended to size him up.

"I was sent from next-door. The name's Joe." He held out a hand which I practically dived over my desk to accept. I hate missed opportunities; they really get on my nerves. "I heard that you wanted someone to help sift through some phone records and receipts."

"Yes, I need one of my people on another case, so I'm afraid you're left with the job." Okay, he's hot. But since when was I so nice? I'm never that nice, even with people I work with. _Especially with people I work with. Joe shrugged._

"_I can deal with that. It's my job, after all." _

"_Yes it is." Obviously. Of course that's his job; I hired him. Why did I just say that? Ah, stupidity. I think I'll find that it dictates most of my current life choices._

"_Where should I set up?" Joe asked, dragging me from my internal argument - half of me still insisting that it was merely a discussion - and back down to earth._

"_Just go out and swap logins with Agent Van Pelt. She's the one with the red hair making the lewd movements. Yes, that one." Joe grinned. _

"_Well Agent Lisbon, it was nice meeting you. I hope we get on well."_

"_Hmm… and so you should because if we don't I have the power to make your life a living hell." Now that was the Teresa that I usually am. I am back baby! I internally danced triumphantly and scolded myself simultaneously. _

_Joe's smile did not fade completely, and he nodded to me on his way out. Knowing that I had scared him enough with my apparent multiple personalities, I returned to my head banging until someone else knocked on my door. _

_This time it was a very musical knock, and I realised, with dread, that Patrick Jane was at my doorway. I was not in the mood. _

"_Go away, Jane."_

"_Not an option I'm afraid. There's a situation out here which actually requires your attention. Unbelievable as it may seem, you being in charge around here." And don't you forget it. _

_I heaved myself out of my comfortable computer chair and to the doorway, wondering what mind trick that Jane was planning on me now. Prepared for everything short and long of the freshly raised dead, I swung open the door to my office. _

"_Jane, what do you -" There was another man with the king of annoyance himself. He was young, with a wiry figure and a disconcertingly familiar face…_

"_Hi, Agent Lisbon? I just came because I was wondering if you've made any progress on my brother's case." My mouth formed a small o shape. That's where I thought I had seen him before. He was the younger, thinner and less muscular version of Perry Kolinsky. The epitome of everything little brotherish. _

"_Oh, hello. In that case, would you like to come in?" I offered an arm towards my office and he accepted. Jane automatically followed after. I glared at him non-amusedly. "Not you!" He took no heed. _

"_I'm having a word with you in a minute about the new guy." Jane put up his hands in mock submission. _

"_I haven't even done anything yet." I shoved past him bad-temperedly._

"_I'm taking initiative and stopping the problem before it starts." Even though my back was turned I could tell that he just rolled his eyes at me. "So Mr. Kolinsky, what would you like to know?"_

"_Please, call me Rafe. Unnecessary formality makes me nervous." I nodded, able to adjust to that._

"_Alright Rafe. Same question." He wrung his hands together anxiously._

"_Have you got any threads on who the killer might be and why he did those terrible things to his body? I mean, I'm not in denile. I can accept that Perry wasn't interested in just the one gender pool, but why do that? Even if he was gay, even if he cross dressed, who is that sick?" Jane and I linked eyes. Just for a moment, but linked all the same. And Rafe saw it. _

"_You know who did this? You know, don't you?" Jane was the one who finally replied. _

"_We're still not sure of the circumstances in which your brother's murder occurred, but we have a vague idea of who might have committed it. He calls himself Red John; he's a serial killer which we have investigated before but never apprehended. We don't know why he chose your brother to kill yet, but there is an ongoing investigation into how they might be connected." Rafe's eyes flicked back and forth from Jane to me, and I could tell the question was about to happen before it even did. _

"_And who is this Red John?" I traded another glance with Jane, which for some odd reason felt very forbidden and unapproved of. He interpreted my glance well and answered for me._

"_That's the thing. We just don't know who Red John is at this moment in time." He looked at the ground and I could tell that he was feeling his words even more than the victim's brother was feeling them. _

"_It could be anyone."_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Two days passed and no word from anybody. No connections, no leads, once more no forensic evidence. I had blown off at so many different people that I doubted I was going to have any allies after all of this was done. _

_With a sharp sigh, I flopped on my bed and closed my eyes. _

_There was a sharp clicking noise and the soft thud of something falling onto carpet. If I were a dog, my ears would have pricked up, and I would have sniffed the air to check the safety of the situation. However, and thankfully I must admit, I was not of canine origin, so instead I drew my gun, which was still attached to my work belt, and crept towards the door. Yes, it was one thing for someone to deliver mail to me through a mail slot; in fact, that was the normal thing for one to do. Nevertheless, it is an entirely different story at one thirty in the morning. _

_An envelope lay on the welcome mat just inside my door. There was no blood seeping from it, no shapes of severed fingers or the like imprinted on the outside; in fact it was pristine and white, though not to the point that it looked formal. Come to think of it, there was something very informal which I could feel about the envelope. So much so that the feeling scared me. And Teresa Lisbon is not one which scares easily, even by the midnight postman. _


	6. I Hate Dealing with People

Chapter 6 - I Hate Dealing with People

I stared at the envelope. The envelope - had it eyes or anything of the like - would have stared right back at me. Several minutes passed in a similar vain.

"Oh fuck it!" I finally proclaimed to the world, took two steps forward and grabbed the envelope off the welcome mat where it had been sitting. "Now that wasn't too hard now, was it Teresa? No it wasn't." I said to myself, almost scolding. "Nothing blew up, nothing is ticking, in fact nothing is out of the ordinary about this envelope." I surmised, perhaps a bit too soon. Now all I had to do was pluck up the courage to open it.

I suppose I could call someone who might still be awake. I checked the clock and that one went out the window. I could wait until morning and let someone else check over and open it. My curiosity ruled out that one too. I could see no other logical thing to do except open this strange, unnamed and unaddressed envelope on my kitchen table.

Twenty minutes later I had let my mind wander and it had wandered astonishingly far. It was full of smiles and rainbows and kittens and other things which I thought were cute, happy and not scary. In one singular relapse into sanity - attained because I unexpectedly pinched myself - I realised that perhaps the stress of this case was getting a bit too much. I didn't need the midnight postman making things worse.

"Just open the damned envelope, Teresa. It's probably nothing. Just a creep, creepy midnight electric bill." I sighed. Now she knew what Jane had been saying about just having a feeling about something. Today, right now I just felt that something was out of the ordinary; that something was wrong. Furthermore, I had the distinct impression that that something was to do with this envelope.

Forcing myself to believe that there was no problem, I reached over in a brave whim, and slid my fingers along the inside of the rim, to break the seal holding the envelope closed.

All of a sudden, bizarrely, the envelope felt damp. I looked down in surprise, and saw a dark red, almost brown liquid welling around the pristine whiteness of the existing envelope. I frowned, freezing. Perhaps I had released a … oh bugger.

A searing pain stung through my fingers and I realised that the substance was blood; my own blood. I cried out, more in surprise than pain. Someone had rigged that letter. Someone had rigged that letter then intentionally left it at my door. Why? Who would want to do this to me? The pristine envelope was now dripping with blood. There seemed to be an excess of it. I immediately grabbed a dish towel to staunch the flow of bodily fluids, swearing softly yet profusely.

Razor blades in envelopes; not a common, yet not an uncommon happening. I cursed the fact that I had seen this dozens of times before. Chillingly, I had seen slashes and cuts exactly like those which now resided on my own fingers on those of the dead. Violent crime victims, mostly.

And despite my extensive knowledge and experience in the matter, I realised with considerable horror that I was at a total loss for what to do.

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Cho was flicking a pen as high as he could before it hit the ceiling when I arrived the next morning. My hand was bandaged - the ER nurse took no name and I was not intending on giving her one - and I was convinced that the most of my men would believe me when I said that I cut myself while making dinner the night before. Until, that is, it got to Jane. Well, perhaps if I believed my own lie enough, he might somehow interpret it as truth.

"Hey boss." Rigsby said on the way past. He was almost at the coffee machine when he noticed my bandaged limb. "You okay? What happened?" I went over my story hastily before I allowed my mouth to start moving.

"Yeah, I got it all checked out. I cut myself on a kitchen knife. No big deal. How's everything working out on Red John? Any new leads?" Rigsby shook his head, looking unperturbed by my injury. Phew!

"Nothing which I think is going to pan out. I have a report on your desk but it basically says that there is not much going for us right now."

"Hmm. Thanks for that. And Van Pelt?" His expression immediately jumped to guilty.

"What about Van Pelt?" He asked, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Is her report on my desk too?" I asked, perhaps a little too innocently. Rigsby cleared his throat.

"Um… probably. I - I don't know… exactly… I'm going to get back to work now." I smirked as he bumbled off awkwardly. I should really stop torturing the poor bugger. Ah, that would be no fun. I'm sure he enjoys it really. Deep down in his pinkie toe.

Two hours and a couple of essentially tedious phone calls later I was slightly further along yet not far enough along to pin anyone down. Red John is gone; gone like the wind. And sadly, infuriatingly, there wasn't a damned thing that we could do about it.

Van Pelt appeared at the doorway about two hours later and flopped herself down in the chair next to my desk. Exhausted, frustrated and ready to bear my wrath lovingly onto this poor young unsuspecting visitor, I lifted my head from the desk and smiled.

"Hello. Is this important?"

"Um… I just wanted to talk to you." I think she caught my venomous glare because she hastened to rephrase. "About something very important." I sighed and straightened up, ignoring the pain in my hand.

"What's the problem?" She appeared to be offended. I wondered briefly why but was in too bad a mood to consider it at length.

"You assume it's a problem?"

"I can tell from the way you sat down; the way you're talking; your general body language." I lied. I'd just been guessing. She grinned cheekily.

"You're starting to sound like Jane!" I rolled my eyes in good humour.

"God forbid! Listen, you came here to ask about something. Shoot."

"First of all, I received a call from Jacob Carter down in the basement, and he said that he got a package delivered yesterday to a Mr. John Zelphino. His wife reported it when it started ticking."

"Carter as in Carter in the explosives lab? The one who asked you out." Van Pelt nodded, blushing slightly. I blew a sigh. Calm down dear, it's not a compliment. Anyway, who would want to blow up Zelphino? Apart from his clear lack of feelings, moral stature and the inability not to covet his neighbours ass - or rather his co-worker's wife's - he seemed well adjusted in the society he lived in.

"Yes that one. Prints are running now, but it might be a dead end. It was memade bomb, most likely. Household products."

"Suspects?"

"Mrs. Kolinsky maybe. She thinks that he killed her husband and she thinks that he did it so that they could be together."

"Hmm. Run it past Jane. Don't make it seem like I particularly need his help, he was being very cocky when I last saw him." Van Pelt nodded curtly.

"What else?" She pretended to look confused.

"There is nothing else." I rolled my eyes, hand in too much pain to wait as she bludgeoned a bloody shrub. For several years I have ran a successful team in a successful department, and along the way I have learnt a couple of things that I would not have previously known about people. Despite my extensive contacts however, I learnt most of them from Patrick Jane. The point was that I'm not as naïve as I used to be when I started this job. I know people and they can't get past me as easily as they used to.

Van Pelt bit her lip nervously.

"I would like your approval on matters pertaining to a certain office policy." Dear God. Why did I have this condescending feeling that this was something to do with Rigsby?

"Okay…?" I said slowly, drawing my words out lengthily and cautiously.

"I know that it is the unwavering policy of this department that co-workers are not allowed to date." Voila. My niggling feeling was correct.

"As it is in many other departments."

"And before I protest I would like to say that I do in fact respect that these rules have been set into place."

"But…" I prompted. I knew what she was trying to say, but she had to say it out loud. I wasn't meeting her halfway with this.

"But I would like to appeal this decision." Three guessed who she's talking about. Well… there really only are three men. Except if she's having an affair with Minelli, but somehow I doubted that.

"On what basis?" Don't reply with 'love'. Just don't.

"I want to be with someone, and I'm sure that they want to be with me too, and I don't see how the rules set in place will make us any less attached to one another." She fingered the fraying upholstery of the chair. "I love him and he reciprocates so much that it doesn't matter if we are together or not. I would still give up the world to keep him safe." And there she said it. The best explanation of love that anyone had ever expressed to me. I sighed, unable to bring myself to break such a wonderful thing.

"And you don't think that anything would make you love him less. Or more."

"No way on Earth." Ah, they appear to have reached equilibrium. "And the only real way for the higher levels to find out about this love is if you told them."

"So really," I began, trying to make sense of Van Pelt's convoluted method of speaking. "You're just asking me to turn a blind eye to you and 'Mystery Man' 's relationship?" Her eyes widened. That made it sound like she had just asked for special treatment. She'd never done that in her life before. Mind you, she'd never been in love like this either.

"Er…um…well…no…perhaps?" I rolled my eyes again, in even better humor.

"Well why didn't you bloody say that then!" I laughed aloud. She looked sheepish that she had been leading me in circles. "I will when I can, but when Minelli comes around you're on your own." She nodded and smiled enthusiastically, like a little girl who had just persuaded her mother to buy her some ice cream.

"Thanks boss. It's appreciated." I smiled as she left. I try to stay professional while at work, but I had to admit; that was adorable.

Almost as soon as Van Pelt had left, Jane entered, looking behind him at his rookie colleague.

"What made her so happy. She looks like a girl who just tricked ice cream out of her mommy." I decided to ignore the similarity of his thoughts to mine. It was just too creepy.

He closed the door, and turned to me with a much more serious expression. I lifted my pen from the paper, wondering what could possibly be so dire.

"What happened to your hand?" His voice was light but the undercurrent was deep and unpredictable. The only other time I had heard Jane like that was when he had assured me that he was going to exact his revenge on Red John and exactly how he was going to perform the act. It was a bit chilling; seeing Jane in a bad mood. Unnatural and chilling.

"It's nothing. I cut myself. Silly mistake." He stood by the chair but did not sit.

"That might work on Rigsby but it doesn't on me. I know you, Lisbon. You can't lie to me." I sighed. I was stupid to believe that he would but into my bullshit.

"It is nothing to worry about. I have it under control." Yeah right Teresa. Under control. You're scared to go home, you're scared to talk to anyone about it and you'll probably never going to be able to open a letter again before running a metal detector over it.

I should never have opened that envelope. It was still lying at home, the blank white paper stained permanently with my shockingly crimson blood.

"Give me some credit. Talk to me." His voice was softer now; more worried for me. I felt inclined to tell him. What the hell, he's only going to read my mind anyway.

"It's probably nothing, you know." I said, making one last attempt to force him to drop the subject. He did not waver.

"But it is something." He took my silence as a yes.

"Something." I played with my bandage sub-consciously as I spoke. "Someone delivered an envelope to me last night, through my letterbox. It was one thirty. I tried to open it." Jane was staring at me. He worked this case up with me. He knew what was going on.

"Razor blades." He surmised. I inclined my head, mostly so I didn't have to look at him, and partly in agreement. "Lisbon." He whined urgently. "You need to report this! You said it yourself on the press conference. If any of these events happen to anyone, they must report it, you said it yourself." I knew that to deny my own words would be the worst type of hypocrisy, but at that moment in time, I really didn't care.

The envelope was always the first contact between my latest serial killer and his victim. It was always blank and white, so the red of the blood stood out crimson against the palest of tints. Once analysed, it was revealed to have a chemical component (I was pretty sure that I couldn't remember the name of it and absolutely certain that I was not able to pronounce it) which made the blood stand out in brilliance against the immaculate surface of the paper.

"There is no point in me trying to report it. I already have resources, case files and such the like. I'm the person who made him famous." Jane shook his head at me.

"You're being unreasonable. Stop it." I frowned at him.

"I am not being unreasonable. I just don't see the point."

"Report it or I will." His threat hung heavy in the air. I ignored it the best I could.

"Listen, Jane, I'm happy that you care, I really am, but I know that it will do no good to go on record with this. Plus, it's probably someone just messing about. A copycat." Jane's frown did not leave his face.

"Well you know what I think about it." I nodded.

"Yes I do." And that, I suppose, was that. "Get out of my office."


	7. Mind Games

_Yes, I know that it's been ages since I updated last and I've been leaving you all in the lurgey. But here I am and there it is: chapter seven. Give me feedback or I'll take even longer to update next time! (evil chuckle)_

* * *

**Chapter seven**

I woke up the next day to a bright new dawn and a splitting headache. Bloody hell it hurt. It was like having the world's worst hangover while dehydrated in a teenage music concert at three in the morning, on a Sunday. Everyone feels like shit on a Sunday. God knows why.

Last night had been fine; it had been completely normal. No alcohol, religious sacrifices or creepy postmen lurking in the corridors of my apartment building. However the worry did give me an idea. A certain perk of being a Senior Detective with a government badge means that I can get next to anyone to give me what I want. Well, within reason. For instance, I merely mentioned in passing to the night watchman that I needed those security tapes from the night the letter had been delivered, and he said he would whip them out tomorrow morning when he's able to find them. The tapes that is. I was supposed to be picking them up presently, but I appear to have come down with a case of the Stalker Blues.

I dropped in on the night watchman on the way out of my building and he was more than happy to help, assuming that it was an official and important matter. Hah, sucker.

Michael Falcon was the ex-husband of the widow. He was our prime suspect. He wasn't allowed anywhere near Jane. He was six foot four, muscular and handsome to the point that few could beat but quite frankly I would rather Cho. Not that Cho was all that bad. Really, he was quite attractive. But no… just no. never no. just no.

I lasted until nine thirty until I made my way to the shop down the road for a donut. When I returned to my office, Jane was lounging behind my desk, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. He looked up as I entered, face splitting into a cheeky grin. I wondered, with a large dose of apprehension, what he had done.

"Why hello there Lisbon." He drawled, dramatically, and I nodded stiffly. The donut hadn't given me relief and I still had another three hours until my lunch break.

"Mr. Jane." He raised an eyebrow, pausing in his twisting of my spinny chair to regard me oddly.

"Mr. Jane?" He asked, sounding faintly amused. I hated it when he used that voice. I shrugged, not really knowing either why I had called him that.

"Shuttup and get out of my seat." He appeared to consider my request briefly, then stuck his nose up in the air stubbornly.

"No." I imagine my expression wouldn't have been dissimilar to a bull's which was about to charge.

"Are you here for a reason, Jane? Apart from just to piss me off, that is." I snipped, placing my hands on my hips, very aware that he was in the postition of power in the room - behind the boss' desk. He smiled smugly and if my gun had not been in the top drawer of my desk, I would not have hesitated.

"But my dear Teresa, is it not plausible that I'm just here for your delightful company?" I glared at him, mentally scolding both him and my mother for calling me Teresa.

"Give me something or walk out that door." Blunt was my new style.

"Fine." He leant backwards, casually, though I could tell, mostly from experience, that he was tense, rather than relaxed. Interlocking his fingers, he regarded me closely and carefully. Oh shit. That meant that he was up to something. "I talked to Michael Falcon." I was shocked, in the way that I didn't expect him to talk to Falcon, not shocked in the way that I didn't expect him to go against my orders.

"Jane-"

"Don't worry, Lisbon. Cho was there the whole time with his taser at the ready." I shook my head, suddenly even more exhausted than I had been earlier in the morning. I was going to have to have words with Cho...

"So?"

"So?"

"Well?" I looked at him expectantly but Jane just frowned.

"I'm sorry, you appear to have lost me."

"What do you think? Is he Red John?" Here it was; the deciding cote. Is the suspect downstairs Red John? Is he the monster who murdered your family and ruined your life? It was not a question to be answered with noncholance, even by Jane. His eyes were fixated firmly on my desk, though I suspected that his mind was firmly elsewhere. His next words took me by surprised and the way he spoke them made me suspect that they surprised him too.

"He killed Kolinsky but he isn't Red John." He said, slowly, as if explaining to himself as well as me. My eyebrows contracted sharply in puzzlement.

"What?"

"He pulled the metaphorical trigger but was not holding the actual gun."

"Now you've lost me." I didn't have time for JAne's elaborate poncing sessions. I just wanted to sleep.

"Red John killed Perry Kolinsky." JAne said, and I threw my hands in the air in annoyance.

"You just said that Michael Falcon killed Perry Kolinsky!"

"He did." He said, blankly, still staring straight at me. He was winding me up, he had to be, even though he looked deadly serious.

"But you said that Red John killed Perry Kolinsky!"

"Yes, I did say that."

"You also said that Michael Falcon is not Red John." I adopted my best in control voice, facing him straight on.

"That he isn't." Judging from his voice, he was becoming more self confident of his decision by the very second. I felt the all too familiar compulsion to strange him.

"Then what the hell are you talking about?" I almost screamed. Agents were starting to peer nosily through the blinds, mine among them, so I strode over and shut them out. This was none of their business.

"Falcon feels that Kolinsky's murder is due to him. That he is responsible for his death."

"So let me get this straight." I motioned with my hands, hoping a visual aid would take some of the strain off of my tested brain. "He thinks that Red John killed our victim because of him."

"No." Breathing exercises... Jane leant forwards and to tell the honest truth, the look in his eyes scared me a little. "He _knows _that Red John killed our victim because of him." I nodded, slowly, attempting to process his roundabout claim.

"And what insane reason are you basing this on?" I said, harshly. Jane prided himself for being unfathomable and unreadable but in that moment, I saw straight through him and straight out to the other side. My tone had hurt him: uncharacteristically so.

"I have a feeling." He said, quieter, as if this made everything okay in the world. I threw up my hands in mock rejoice.

"Of course!" I cried, and he looked surprised at the depth and malice of my sarcasm. "I'll call the judge now and Falcon will be sentenced within the hour! And when he asks: 'On what claims are you arresting Mr. Falcon, I'll just tell him that it's okay! Jane had a feeling! No, there's no evidence, but who here needs proof?" I slammed my hands down on the desk, a trick which usually worked on suspects. He jumped, for once completely taken aback by my actions. "You need to get me something more than that to get a conviction, Jane. I'm not holding him on a hunch."

"You don't believe me, do you?" He asked, uncertainly, and his voice sounded so small and pathetic that my anger dissapated and the line that I knew had appeared between my eyebrows softened. I did not move my eyes. I did not move my mouth. In fact, I made an extreme effort not to move anything at all. Jane played on body language. No movement; no body language. Right?

"You don't believe me." His voice was much more definite now, and his expression had hardened significantly. Maybe next time I should try to evade his question by moving everything, as opposed to staying still. The sudden envisionment of me trying to move every single part of my body simultaneously made me fight the strong urge to laugh. The stress was really playing with my emotions today. "Lisbon, look at me." I reluctantly brought up my face so he could see it properly. He was handsome; his expression was ugly. "Why don't you trust me?"

I looked away, his words echoing painfully in the agonised void of my mind. He was playing his minds games again. His solution to everything. Just trick the boss into giving you what you want. Well it wasn't going to work this time.

"Cut it out, Jane." I said, quietly but not softly.

"What?" He had not misheard me.

"I said cut it out." Glaring at him, I repeated, stronger this time. "Cut out the part where you make me feel bad for disagreeing with you and try to guilt trip me into giving you what you want." His mouth had fallen ajar in complete and utter surprise. "That's what usually happens." My voice was raised now; the agents in the bullpen could probably hear me. I no longer cared.

"Lisbon, I am asking you a normal, everday question." Yeah, the hell you are. "Do you trust me?" I shook my head, refusing to let the pangs of my stomach take over and answer his question. If I didn't give my answer, he couldn't manipulate it.

"I've forgotten... is this the part where you manipulate me? Or is it later on? Either way, Jane, I'm not buying it."

"Why won't you answer the question?" The playfullness in his tone was really starting to piss me off. He had gone too far this time.

"I'm not going to listen to this!" I yelled. "I don't have to!" All the tension and the anger and the frustration of the past few days were pouring out in my voice, which was cracking under the strain. "I am your superior which means that I do not have to play into your bullshit!" He was standing now, I wasn't sure since when, still in the position of power behind my desk.

"Answer the damn question, Lisbon." His voice was a low, dark growl. Those pleasant blue eyes had turned seamlessly to icy stone, and his soft mouth was set in a grim slash across his face. Every marker of his playful personality was gone, replaced by one which was much more sinister. If I was listening in, I would't have believed that the voice was Jane's, I wasn't even sure that this was Jane, right here and right now. I have never been the type of girl who was scared of spiders, snakes or sharks, but in that moment, Angry Jane made that unfamiliar fear rise its ugly head. I waned under his crushing gaze.

"Yes, Jane."

"Yes what?" He was still cold, but I sensed his anger seeping away through the cracks in his resolve.

"Yes I trust you. You know I trust you." The eyes fixed on me were helpless. Angry Jane was gone, replaced instead with Sheepish Jane who was sorry for what Mr. Hyde had said.

"Trust me now."

"It's not that simple, Jane. You know that." It wasn't. I wanted to explain to him that I couldn't make things automatically better. Although I was the voice of authority in his life, I was low down on the food chain. I couldn't sentence a man with circumstantial evidence. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't give him the revenge that he needed so desperately. But I said nothing, becuase I just couldn't find the right words.

"I know. This case is special to Red John, Teresa. When he killed Kate and my baby girl, I dedicated my whole life to finding him and exacting my revenge. Make no mistake, Teresa. Nothing has changed. You know my intentions. But all that matters to you is that Red John is stopped. That justice is served. I can find him and I can give him the justice that he deserves. I may not know his name, what he looks like of where he lives, but I know _him_. I know the mind beneath." He rounded the desk and stood closer, his expression pleading. "Please help me catch Red John."

"No, Jane. You're helping me catch Red John. He's going to prison, not hell." _Same difference. No...Hell was probably cooler._ "I am doing everything in my power to do right now to catch this bastard but letting Falcon walk would not be a smart move. That's what trying to arrest him without evidence would do. He would walk." I tried to look into his face, but lacked the strength of heart. "Is that what you want, Jane?"

"You're worried I'm seeing ghosts. You don't believe that Red John is a part of this." I was silent. He had hit the problem head on in the middle of the junction, and the air bags were yet to deploy. "You think that I'm seeing Red John when all there is is Michael Falcon, your average jealous ex-husband."

"Look at the evidence, Jane. Look at the evidence then tell me that I should suspect Red John." _The only thing pointing the finger at him is you. _

"I thought that you trusted me." I rubbed my forehead anxiously.

"Jane, don't pull this crap on me. You know that I can't work every little hunch that comes out of your mouth, and even if I could, I wouldn't. We have to play this by the book. Stick to protocol. Maybe that's where we've been going wrong on the Red John case." I didn't believe my words any more than he did. I looked at the evidence. I looked real hard but the only thing I saw was the desperately broken man before me, following a long twisting trail of breadcrumbs that no one else could see. He was reaching out for answers which were beyond his capability to cope with.

"Teresa-"

"Listen, I know that you think you're right and I know that you're hardly ever wrong,"- Never going to live that down - "but there is nothing else that I can do. And short of a miracle, there is nothing that is going to change that." I made to slip past him to the door, but he caught my arm. Never before at any point had I considered Janes as strong or imposing, but in that moment, he proved himself as both.

"Teresa." His voice was calmer, and I felt the familiar pang of guilt at the hurt in his voice, and the use of my name. Not Lisbon. My real name.

"Let me go, Jane." I said, almost sadly. "You can't win this one." He looked straight into my eyes and held the contact for countless seconds before resignedly loosening his grip. I suppose I could have pulled away at this point but for some unfathomable reason, I found myself unable to. "Please, Patrick..." The breath left my mouth before I could prevent it.

His eyes were once again a clear, light cerulean blue, though they seemed to be darker than before. No, not darker... Deeper. I knew that Angry Jane was completely gone now. His mouth was diagonally close, and for once I thanked my small frame, because it meant that I didn't need to look into his eyes by default, instead staring at his shoulder. Sliding slowly from my elbow to my wrist, his fingers were hot against my bare skin. I said nothing and he said less. We both merely stayed, soaking in the intimacy of our silence.

"I should go." I informed his shoulder, matter-of-factly. "I need to talk to Van Pelt and it's actually quite important." The shoulder did not reply, and I cursed the small portion of my brain which seemed convinced that it would.

"Yes, you should go."

"I should go."

"You've said that."

"I'm processing." I glanced up just as a small smile graced his lips. Somehow, at some indefineable point in the fourth dimension, we had gravitated closer and closer so that if I presently pouted my lips, I would most likely kiss his clavicle. His breathing was relaxed: slow and methodical, and I realised that it had synchronized with my own. Closing my eyes, I was not at all adverse to falling asleep right there and then.

"I'm sorry I got a little angry at you." He said lazily. "I know that you're doing everything you can." The sighing airiness in his voice made him sound like he was in a happy place, and I briefly wished that I was there with him. It sounded nice.

"It's okay." I replied, suddenly extremely mellow. "Everyone's feeling the strain. Emotions are running wild, but I do trust you. I really do." I realised that I wounded a bit like that too. Standing in my office, my face all but pressed to his chest and his nestled in my hair, I decided that yes, it was quite nice.

"That's good. Trust is good." He murmured softly, and I felt his breath on my forehead. I guess at this point I allowed my mouth to speak, now that the logical part of my brain was distracted by his odd scent of strawberries. I like strawberries.

"You know what else would be good?" I trailed off, horrified that I had just implied what I suspected that I had just implied. Mouth slightly open in shock, Jane looked at me, the shade of his eyes darkening significantly. Aside from his initial surprise though, he didn't look like he was all too bothered by my impulsive and blatantly flirtateous comment. I'm sure that he had no qualms about doing something very good to me right here in my office...

He was watching me closely, with a mixture of amusement and desire. The latter was alarmingly familiar and I realised - with an ounce of shame that it turned me on - that I knew it from everyday use. When we were walking in the corridor, when I woke him up on his couch, when we were standing shoulder to shoulder in the elevator. Especially when I woke him up on his couch. I wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or run away. I settled on doing nothing.

"What would be good, Teresa?" Now he was just being cocky. He had known his effect on me for a long time, though I suspected he was only just beginning to realise that he could use it to his advantage. Bending his head, Jane made the first bold move, prompting mine. I lifted my jaw, eyes fluttering closed as our mouths became aligned. In anticipation.

One more centimetre and I would be breaking every rule I had ever set myself concerning Patrick Jane. I would be crossing a line which would probably chase after me once I was on the other side, and strangle my promising career. Not to mention my sanity. It was against all the rules, regulations and protocols, personal and professional. Could I trust him enough to let him in? Or should the question really be: Could I trust me enough to let him through my barriers and not freak out and walk away? No. I wasn't ready to face the pain of that. Not right now.

"Work!" I cried suddenly, jerking my head back and springing my eyes open. Jane jolted backwards, clearly startled.

"I beg your pardon?" His tone was utterly perplexed.

"Work would be great. Don't you love work? I know I do." He looked at me as if I was insane and to tell the honest truth, I don't think that he was far off. "I love work. We should work. Work is good." He nodded dumbly, unsure of what was happening, his mind still catching up with him. "Anyhow, could you ask Van Pelt to come see me please?"

"Okay..." I began to push him towards the door, and he complied - albeit with a great deal of confusion - until we reached the door. At this point, he dug in his heels and made it inequivocal that he was moving no further. Taking a moment to gather himself, he spoke again. "No."

"That's okay." I mumbled, pretending I was fine with his immobility and scratching my head in embarrassment.

"You were about to kiss me." My consultant informed me, as though I wouldn't have otherwise known. My eyes bugged slightly.

"I most certainly was not." I spluttered, indignant even though we both knew that I was lying. Ever since I was a little girl, my natural reaction to a tense or awkward situation is to compulsively lie in a lame attempt to preserve whatever dignity I may have left. In reality though, this reflex only screws matters up more.

"Lisbon, if there is anything that you want to say or do to me, I want you to say or do it to me right now. This is your chance. Your only chance." I did nothing. The one and only chance I had to fulfill my vivid fantasy of me, him and that computer chair, and I just froze up, staring at him like a goldfish with minus IQ. I wanted to move. I wanted to kiss him with all the passion, the lust and affection which I felt for him in that moment. I really wanted to. I just... didn't.

Slowly, eyes only breaking contact with mine when his face was angled to the door, he turned to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when he gave his head a small shake and by some strange spidey sense - perhaps experience - I knew that he was rolling his eyes at me.

"You're really bad at this you know." He said, through a growing smile, and I puffed, even though I didn't quite know what the insult was.

"Oh yeah? Bad at what exact-" Before I could even finish my indignant question, he had taken two long strides back across my office to where I was leaning against my desk - mostly for support - and pressed his lips strongly but softly to mine. Then, I did the only thing which could really make the situation more complex. I kissed him back.

Planets collided and stars collapsed in the seconds which we held each other, and I could feel the line which I had just crossed evilly plotting its metaphorical revenge.


	8. Much Ado About Something

Chapter Eight - Much Ado About Something

Once Jane had left, smiling like the cat who caught the hypothetical canary, I recieved a phone call. Not that I was quite sane enough to accept it - Jane's kiss had left me reeling and spinning like a cat on speed. It was Van Pelt, telling me soberly that there was nothing. Nada, zero, zilch. Not only had Jane's hunch not panned out, this was starting to look more and more like Red John wasn't even part of this case. I didn't have the heart to run this down with him now, partly because I was afraid of what else we would get around to doing next to my desk. Or on it, for that matter.

"Van Pelt, show me what you have." I ignored the tiny snigger of immaturity in my brain, and leaned across the back of Van Pelt's seat. "Any luck on that search?" She shook her head.

"No, there's no connection between Zelphino and Jane's wife or Falcon and Jane's wife." She kept her voice down, even though I was pretty sure that Jane was listening. Who cared? It was him who requested the search in the first place. "But Joe did get the results back from the basement a few minutes ago." Now not particularly fond of the beautiful man, I wandered over to his workstation, where he was printing things out. Why would I need anyone else when I had Jane? Well at least I _thought _I had Jane. You can never be too sure when it came to that man.

"Van Pelt said that you had the file on whoever tried to bomb Zelphino." I addressed him politely, but curtly. I was his boss and I no longer wanted to sleep with him, so all he does is bring me files. Christ, I feel like a queen. A really underpaid queen. Joe nodded, and grabbed the printed pieces of paper.

"Yeah, I was just about to bring it to you. The prints on the package match a girl called Penny Lachney, arrested two years after she left school for possession and assaulting a police officer. She doesn't match anyone else in the system so far, and I can't find a last known address. She disappeared a couple of months after her arrest, and there are no death certificates or fingerprint matches to Jane Does found across the West Coast." He handed me the file, even though he had already pretty much recited it to me.

"Thanks, good work." I was about to walk away again when he addressed me, this time in lower tones, as if trying to make sure that no one else in the surrounding bullpen heard. Naturally, everyone nearby just listened harder.

"Just one more thing, Agent Lisbon..." He glanced over at Cho, who made no attempt to look away when they made eye contact. "Cho... does he always stare at people like that?" I looked over too, and noted Rigsby's snigger out of the corner of my eye.

"Yes. Don't make eye contact." I widened my eyes slightly at him. "It enrages him." Even the apparently asleep Jane cracked a tiny smile from the couch, while Cho continued to stare at Joe. I don't think he'd blinked for some time now. "Alright people, I want you to focus everything on finding this girl, Penny Lachney. Search the whole of Sacremento door to door if you have to. If you find anything, come straight to me." My team nodded, and I carried the file over to Jane's domain, and pulling up a chair. Eventually, after I'd waited patiently for a few minutes, Jane heaved a soft sigh.

"You know, Lisbon, when one is lying in a horizontal position with one's eyes closed, it usually means that the person in question is asleep." Jane drawled, his eyes still shut. I smiled, knowing that he would he able to sense it.

"Although when the person in question is Patrick Jane, it usually means that they're not." I was rewarded with a smile, which made him look the world younger.

"True. What's up?"

"I want you to look at the file on Penny Lachney."

"Who?" I blinked.

"You weren't listening?" He raised one eyebrow.

"My dear Lisbon, do I ever?" The playfullness was clear in his tone, and it made me smile. No doubt he knew that I was remembering our kiss. "Yes I'll have a look, but what are you expecting me to fin-" He stopped short, the shock clear on his face. "Whoa." I rolled my eyes, having seen the exact same reaction from Rigsby a moments before.

"Jesus man, she's not that hot." I scoffed.

"No, I mean that I know her." His voice was slow, as if he was trying to understand his own words. Not even the infamous Patrick Jane could hide that he was surprised. "Her name is, her name's Irene Manning, not Lachney. She was a nurse at the hospital where Katherine worked before she quit her job." Frightened cerulean eyes met mine, wide as saucers. "They were friends." Immediately, I stood up, leaving the file with him and striding over to behind Joe.

"I want you to look at current records of Irene Manning, see if she has a current address." I snapped, and Joe began typing, even though he looked confused.

"Sure, but why-"

"Shut up and do it." We were getting close, I could sense it. We were close to answers, we had a break which garunteed us something. A connection. Yeah, we had a little work to do, but we were getting there. "Current address?" I asked, impatiently, for Van Pelt would have found it by now. "Van Pelt, run the name Irene Manning through your search." She found her results before even Joe did.

"They worked with each other. Could she be Red John?" Everyone glanced at Jane for confirmation, but he looked in no condition to reply. He merely stared at the file in his hands, lost for a moment in thinking of what had been. Embarrassed, we all looked away. There was no need for him to relive his demons with everyone watching.

"Got it!" Joe finally piped up, and my boys gathered next to me to peer at the computer screen. "581 Tarwick Gardens. Grace and I will compile an interrogation profile for when you get back." I didn't even wait for him to finish the sentence. Red John didn't know what we were doing, but for all we knew, he could. There was no point in taking our time now while Irene Manning jumped out the bathroom window and ran to Mexico.

Grabbing my jacket, I ran to the elevator. I saw Jane, still staring at that file, and my heart broke for him. This was his answer, but only a fragment of it. Another puzzle piece which might lead us further away from the truth. It broke him that he had known this piece was there all along, but he had never seen it as one. It had been pushed back from his conscious so he could deal with his loss alone. Red John had finally broken the last of his composure, and I saw his head fall to his hands as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

When we knocked on the door the third time, a tall slim woman answered. Her hair was dark - a contrast with her mugshot, and she was wearing no makeup, but it was definitely the woman that they were looking for.

"Irene Manning?" She nodded, slowly, suspicion marring her delicate features.

"Who's asking?" I flashed my badge, and moved forwards immediately before she had time to react, pulling out my cuffs.

"CBI, we'd like to ask you some questions." She blinked, then frowned, trying to block her bedroom from view of us.

"Why?" She asked, definatly, and I traded looks with Cho, who had also noticed her defensive body language. "What's happened?"

"Why are you blocking your bedroom, ma'am?" Cho asked, removing his gun from its holster. Her reaction showed both of us that she was no stranger to the sight of a gun, though she kept it quiet.

"I'm not." Yet she didn't move, and I swear I heard something through the door to her bedroom... Pushing past her, Cho banged open the door and pointed his gun around. Then, he pulled out his phone.

"Rigsby, there's someone coming your way." He disconnected, and exited the room, nodding to me that the coast was all clear. I turned my attention back to Manning.

"We'd like to ask you some questions down the station, if that's okay." I made sure that the tone of my voice left no room for argument. Visibly, Manning swallowed, and allowed herself to be handcuffed. She was clearly thinking very hard about how she was going to get out of this one, and I made a strong mental note to make sure that she didn't.

* * *

"Mr. Zelphino." I sat down across from him, beside Rigsby. "Do you care to explain why you were running naked through Tarwick Gardens?" The man in front of us now was a contrast to the one we had seen in the days before. Nevertheless, his defiance and stubborness hadn't dissapated in the slightest.

"You can't hold me here. There's absolutely nothing wrong with spending some time with my girlfriend."

"Let the record show that Mr. Zelphino is married."

"Dozens of men are unfaithful, and I have already illustrated this in my earlier interviews." He excused himself, and I smiled wryly at him, leaning forwards so my mouth was nearer the tape recorder on the table.

"I'm sorry. Let the record show that Mr. Zelphino is an ass." I reiterated, and heard Rigsby snigger from behind me. Zelphino on the other hand, found this not the least bit amusing. Instead, he gradually grew brighter in colour, until he was an oddly appealing shade of puce. "I can hold you though on charges of indecent exposure. Unless I'm much mistaken, Agent Rigsby here caught you with quite literally your pants down in a very public area." Rigsby nodded in agreement, smiling in mock pleasantry. "So I think that if you talk to us like the gentleman we know you are deep down in your pinky toe, then we can get all of that straightened out." Hell, if he was Red John he would be doing prison time anyway.

"I'll answer your questions." He said, though his calm tone sounded forced. "So ask them."

"First of all, I was just wondering why you wanted to spend time with the woman who tried to kill you a couple of days ago." Bam. That knocked him down on his ass, though he tried to conceal it.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Irene would never-"

"We found her fingerprints on a package that was sent to your house. Let's just say that the postman was lucky he didn't drop it, and your wife was even luckier that she didn't open it." Something flashed in his eyes when I mentioned his wife, and I realised that beyond his posturing and unfaithfullness, he was in love with his wife. And he would do anything to protect her. Hopefully, he would even rat on whatever his connection was with Irene.

"I was unaware of this." His voice was deep and menacing, and although I had never before seen him as imposing, I now did. "Are you certain or are you just posturing?" Straight to the point, and precise. No fucking about now - this was serious.

"Deadly serious." I confirmed, not breaking eye contact. Rigsby stayed still, not wavering Zelphino's attention. Now I was the broker - if he was going to make a deal, it would be with me because I was in charge.

"I have nothing more to say without a lawyer present."

"So you're not going to tell us the real reason that you deposited fifty thousand dollars into Michael Falcon's 'untraceable'," Yes, I used the finger hooks for emphasis, "account a few hours after Perry Kolinsky's murder."

"Like I said, Agent Lisbon." His voice had a definitive edge to it. "I want my lawyer." I forced a smile, and picked up my file, knowing that I couldn't force him to answer any more of my questions if he requested a lawyer. Not legally anyway. For now I would let him lawyer-up and try to cook up a half-assed deal with five years and cooperation. If he tries the pleading guilty to one murder gag, I will destroy him.

* * *

"We appear to have misplaced the official documents pertaining to your change in identity, Miss Manning." Cho pointed out, politely, as Manning's eyes jumped from him to me. "Perhaps you have them." This was our way of saying that her ID change was illegal, and we knew it. Brokering a deal was the first step.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Manning insisted, head held high and nose upturned. I narrowed my eyes. Between her and Zelphino, I was really starting to get pissed off.

"You know exactly what we're talking about, we both know that you do. So just save us some time and cut the crap. What is your connection with John Zelphino?"

"He is cheating on his wife with me." Manning replied, as cooly and bluntly as I had asked, quite frankly surprising me a little.

"And you two have a steady relationship?"

"I don't understand what you're trying to ask, Agent." The tone of her voice was cooling further, to the temperature of liquid nitrogen. "Am I in some sort of trouble because I'm sleeping with a married man? Because if it makes you feel any better, I'm sleeping with single men as well." I did not like her insolence or her promiscuoty. It irked me - more than Jane in the morning.

"Miss Manning, I'm trying to assertain your reasons for trying to blow up Mr. Zelphino." I hissed, and I think I got through to her this time. "Because try as we might, we can't find them." Despite her initially composed appearance, I didn't have to have Jane's observational skills to see that she was getting nervous. "Mr. Zelphino has no idea why you would do anything like that," I repeated the words which Jane was murmuring into my earpiece. "But he and his lawyer are thinking about the possibilities as we speak."

"I think that it's clear to see that someone's trying to frame me. Have you even considered Zelphino himself?" Although she appeared to look innocent, I was far too tired to care what she looked like, and just listened to what Jane had to say. This was past my expertise, as extensive as it was when it came to criminals. Red John was Jane's territory.

"In my experience, no man would try to blow himself up, just in case the authorities would find the bomb in time. He had nothing to gain, and everything to lose."

"I guess that... I don't know, I'm not part of this. I'm just the girl he's sleeping with." Her excuse was too open and fractured. She was caught, with nowhere to go. Any second not, she would ask for- "I'd like to speak to my lawyer, before we proceed with this interview." Yup, there you go. She's lawyered-up too, blocking yet another path to the truth.

"Of course." I gritted my teeth, using all of my willpower not to climb across the desk and beat the truth out of her. "One of my colleagues will bring you a phone to call your counsel." I guess I showed to Cho how pissed off I was, because as soon as we had stepped out of the door, he placed a hand gently on my shoulder.

"You okay, boss?" He asked quietly, before the rest of the team could catch up, and I realised how lucky I was to have brave, caring Cho as my second in command. Often, I did not thank him enough for everthing that he did for me. So I smiled, and touched the hand laid on me fondly.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout me. This case is getting to everyone." By mention of everyone, our minds both floated back to Jane, but our thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Rigsby and Van Pelt, who walked from the viewing room with grim expressions. Jane was not with them, he was clearly still watching Manning inside of interrogation. "Hey guys, what do you think?" By you, I mean Jane.

"Jane thinks that she's Red John's partner." Van Pelt understood the meaning of my words. "But I'm not so sure. I mean, his theory is that she does the legwork, while Zelphino does the planning. Or something along those lines - he wasn't speaking too clearly."

"What's wrong with that? It's rare for a serial killer, but I'm sure that it's not unheard of." I shot back, needing a brainstorm. Or thought shower, as Minelli said it was supposed to be called in modern times. Screw that, I call it brainstorming.

"She's a woman." Rigsby said, simply, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Must I kill you to prove a point?" He grinned, and shook his head.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that she wouldn't have been strong enough to lug the victim all the way up the stairs, and hang him from the ceiling, not in any way that we can think of, anyway." Rigsby explained, and I nodded. "That's why we eliminated Kolinsky's wife to start with. We didn't think that she was physically capable."

"I hear you." I mused, pulling out my phone, and toying with it.

"Who are you calling?" Cho asked, his voice as unreadable as ever.

"I don't know, but isn't it possible..." Forgetting to continue my sentence out loud, I continued in my head, then dialled a number on my phone. My team all looked at each other, but decided to let it slide. "Dr. Oscar?" The male voice answered with a kind yes, and I could hear him rustling papers on his desk as we spoke. "I would just like to ask you a question about the Perry Kolinsky crime scene."

"Ah yes, the crossdressing fellow." I could barely hold in a smile. "What about him?"

"I was wondering if there was any way that anyone not strong enough to carry the victim's body could get it up onto the ceiling, after carrying it up the stairs." My team watched me carefully, waiting for the ME's answer as carefully as I was. Even Jane had appeared at the doorway, his forehead still creased in confusion and deep thought. I did not keep his eye contact.

"Hmm. Yes, I've been thinking about that, and I took the liberty of doing a few experiments." Dr. Oscar mused back, and I heard him sit back in his seat, thinking hard. I could almost sense his walrus mustache bristling as he pondered. "And I came to the conclusion that it would have to take a very, very, extremely physically fit person to carry the body all of the way up the stairs." Well that ruled non-bodybuilding Irene Manning out then.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Oscar." I was about to hang up, when he cried for me to stay on the line.

"I'm not finished, Agent Lisbon."

"Oh, sorry." He took a deep breath before continuing, and he sounded like Jane when proposing a particularly absurd idea.

"But while I was taking photos and doing the preliminary cause of death at the crime scene, I noticed how the ropes holding up the body were tied... oddly." I frowned.

"How so? Hang on, I'm going to put you on speakerphone." I pressed the button, and my team gathered around my phone, except Jane, who watched from the doorway. The whole time which he had been doing so, his eyes hadn't left my face, I could feel them. Surprisingly, I didn't mind though.

"The ropes were tied in such a way which implied that there was some sort of lever system - I don't think that the body was carried up the stairs at all, the killer just had to have the basic know how, and a lot of rope, which was looped around the body when we found it. There was definitely enough for the killer to have pulled the body up to the ceiling from the top of the stairs, using a sort of pulley system." Van Pelt grinned triumphantly at Rigsby, and even Cho looked slightly less disheartened. "Of course, it's just a theory..." Dr. Oscar said hastily, misinterpreting our silence, but I cut in.

"No, you've been extremely helpful. If it's alright, I would like you to work out exactly how this pulley system could have worked-"

"I already have." He admitted. "I'll fax you all of the results of my experiments. Glad to have been of help, Agent Lisbon." I smiled.

"Thank you doctor." I hung up, and looked around at my team. "I guess that's Manning back on the table, then." They nodded, and rushed away to the bullpen. I was about to follow, when I realised that Jane was still watching me, a little smile twisting his lips. I tried to do a boss face, and failed abysmally because every time that he smiled I could not help but to smile back.

"What?" He shook his head, and walked away, after the others. "What?"

"You're cute." He murmured, when I was within earshot, and glanced around quickly before kissing me lightly on the temple. Thanking Zeus that no one else was watching, I grinned up at him, but tried to look serious.

"I don't do cute." I insisted, rolling my eyes and falling into step beside him. He just smiled mysteriously.

"You do to me."


	9. Raising the Stakes

**Raising the Stakes**

"Mr. Falcon, I would like to remind you of the severity of the situation that you now find yourself in." I interlocked my fingers and watched him carefully from across the table. In my unbiased, professional and experienced opinion, he was acting a bit dodge. Wringing his hands with eyes darting back and forth, he was definitely hiding something. "At the moment, we can connect you to the murder of Perry Kolinsky and perhaps to a series of murders-"

"I didn't kill anyone." Falcon stammered, and Jane was silent in my ear, not seeing anything of use from his reaction yet. So far in, I was on my own.

"Okay, explain to me why Mr. Zelphino sent you 50,000 dollars not too long after your ex-wife's husband's murder." The evenness of my tone was making him nervous. In fact, everything that I did seemed to make him nervous.

"He was helping me with an investment. The bank couldn't help me, but I don't know, I guess that John felt sorry for me because of my divorce. He was kind enough to-"

"Funny. That's not what John said to me." I echoed Jane's words exactly, and Falcon froze up. These were dangerous waters; we had not teased any information out of the lump of useless adultering waste some referred to as John Zelphino. He had said nothing, so if Falcon asked us exactly what John had told us, we were officially screwed. Not to mention probably sued. However, Falcon didn't seem to be in any state to take us up on anything.

"He's... he's lying." I didn't need Jane to tell me that Falcon was breaking. Soon enough, we would know everything that Falcon did.

"Why? You don't know what he's even said to us." That wasn't Jane, that was all me, baby.

"I know that...." My unrelenting stare was seriously freaking him out - a bead of sweat was forming on his forehead, despite the low temperature in the room. "I want to make a deal." Though I knew that he was close to breaking, the suddenness surprised me.

"Certainly." I unlocked my fingers, and leaned back in my chair, hands clasped. I was careful to keep my movements fluid and slow, just in case the nervous man got too jumpy. "State your terms."

"Or you will sleep with the fishes..." A male voice muttered in my earpiece, doing an extremely bad European accent. I knew it was Rigsby because of the shove and the 'shh' that Van Pelt sent his way. It was full of love. Back in my room, Falcon was rambling.

"I'm not admitting to anything I didn't do-"

"Let me state _my _terms, then." Otherwise this would be going nowhere fast."You admit your complete involvement with Perry Kolinsky's murder, and you won't be charged with all of Red John's murders. But if you don't tell us anything, then we have to assume that you are Red John, and you killed all of those people." This was no deal; this was the justice system. But, Falcon the genius knew no better, and agreed to my terms as if I was giving him special treatment. Hah, sucker.

"Yes, Agent Lisbon. I like the sound of that." Of course you do, little fishy. I reeled you in nicely. Falcon wrung his hand again, and shifted nervously. "I was a client of John even before I divorced my wife, so I knew him well. He really... he helped me through my divorce, he gave me support and was always there to talk to when I needed him to be. Even when Ophelia remarried, he was always there for me, and he always listened." I nodded, encouraging him to say more. Maybe Zelphino had a heart after all. "Then one day, he asked me to make a choice."

"What kind of choice?" I sked, keeping my tone and aura calm. "What did he ask you to do?"

"It's not what he asked me to do..." Falcon said, shakily. "It's what _I _wanted _him _to do."

The timer just reset. This changes _everything_.

"Let me get this straight: he asked you whether you wanted him to kill Perry Kolinsky?" I heard Jane sit up, and I knew that even he could not have seen this coming, any better than I could. Falcon nodded, swallowing deeply. "And you said yes?"

"You have to understand, Agent Lisbon, about how much I loved my wife. In some grief induced psychosis, I thought that she would come back to me if her husband was out of the picture." Falcon began to stutter, and his breaths came in great heaves as the sobbing began.

"Mr. Falcon, do you know this woman?" I pushed a printout of Irene Manning/ Penny Lachney across the table, and Falcon peered carefully at it, giving the distinct impression that he was making an immense effort.

"No, sorry. Is she something to do with this?"

"He doesn't know her." Verified Jane in my ear, and now was not the time to doubt him. After all, he was a psychic. No matter what he said or believed.

"That's all very well, Mr. Falcon, but there's one main thing which doesn't quite fly with me." The expression on his face was not guilty - so far he at least believed that he was telling me the whole truth. Saying nothing, he encouraged me to continue. "Zelphino paid you 50, 000 dollars, not the other way around. I want to know why."

"I lost my nerve." Falcon said simply, choking on his own tears. "I wanted to kill Perry for stealing away my wife, but I realised that it would solve nothing." He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. It might have been my imagination but I swore I could hear the erratic beating of his heart. I knew exactly what he was trying to say, and I didn't know if it was wrong that I knew how he felt.

"But it was already too late." I said his next words for him, and he nodded, heavy anguished wails beginning to take control of his body. "Perry was dead and you'd paid Zelphino to do it."

"Yes, I had." He confirmed, once again on tape. "But he gave me half of my money back, when I told him that I was going to the police." Lucky bastard. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd topped him off, there and then, and blamed it on the widow.

"In a couple of minutes, a colleague of mine is going to come in and go over everything that you've said in here, to compile a statement that is viable and reliable in court. You will also have to testify, and we can keep you in protective custody, if you see fit." Falcon nodded, though now barely able to see shit through the blurring tears clogging up his eyes."If there are any problems, or inconsistancies, however trivial, ask for me and we'll talk them over." Falcon didn't even nod this time, though I swore that I heard a 'yes' admist the bawling. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Luckily the soundproofing of the interrogation room blocked out his haunting cries as soon as I shut the door. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt met me at the door, awaiting my instuction. They all looked immensely confused by what had been revealed in the interview and honestly, so was I.

"Cho, you get Falcon to sign his statement. If he tries to change the story, I'm the first one to know." Without a second glance, Cho accepted his task wordlessly, disappearing obediently into the room I have just vacated wih his laptop. Falcon's cries were briefly heard as the door opened and closed.

"Rigsby, go to Manning and prep for another interrogation. Just warm her up for me. Grace, you watch and take any notes, even ones which you think are trivial. I'm sure that we all know by now, details are the things which make cases." Talking about that, where was Jane? "I'll be right in, I just need to..." I trailed away, glancing past my subordinates into the viewing room, where Jane was sitting, staring through the screen. Rigsby and Van Pelt traded looks, before he walked off, file in hand.

I stared at Jane's prone form, wondering what I would say to him. His whole world - his purpose for living - had been turned upside down and back to front, by the implication of Falcon's words. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up in surprise. Grace was looking at me, smiling reassuringly.

"You'll know what to say." She said softly, and gave my shoulder a little squeeze. I could not help but to smile slightly in return, despite the seriousness of our predicament.

"You're getting more like Jane every single day!" I joked, and she made an 'I suppose so' face, before walking away, after Rigsby. Taking a deep breath, I strode into the room, closing the door behind me and pulling one of my teammates' recently vacated charis up beside his, so I could sit close to him.

"Hey Jane, how you feeling?"

"Red Jane." He replied, still staring straight ahead to where Cho and Falcon were talking. The sound system was on mute, but since I knew that Jane could lip-read, this was inconsequential.

"I beg your pardon?" I gave him the chance to explain himself but I think he missed the cue.

"Red Jane."

"Is that what you call yourself on Saturday nights?"

"Red Jane."

"Christ man, extend your vocabulary!" I cried, becoming increasingly frustrated with his limited response. "Are you saying that Red John's Manning?"

"No, Red _Jane_."

"Wonderful. That tells me everything." I replied, sarcastically. "Please, Jane." I touched his arm gently, and he looked surprised, though not unpleasantly, at the contact. "Talk to me."

"Zelphino and Manning are Red John. Red John was hired to kill Perry Kolinsky. It all makes sense now, Lisbon!" Frowing, I watched him carefully.

"Red John is two people?"

"Red John is a contract killer." He answered my next question as well.

"But-"

"Zelphino planned the murders, while Maninng pulls it off. They're a team - this is the hidden dynamic that I could never figure before, but now I have it! And I know why some murders are different for them! Manning knew my wife, that's why her murder was slightly different. Also, Kolinsky knew Zelphino, but he was too close to just pull it off as a different murder. They had to make it look like someone else had killed Kolinsky."

The grim excitement in his voice saddened me. He had his answers, and even though they were far-fetched, and he didn't really like them, he would take them anyway because they were not out of the realms of possibility.

"All this time, Lisbon, we've been operating under the assumption that Red John was a man without motive, but he's not. A contractor, that makes sense!" Maybe to you, Jane, but just try to prove it in court. No, no no, that would be _my _job.

"We need evidence to convict any of them. Plus, Zelphino has a solid alibi for the might of the murder."

"Zelphino has an alibi _because _it was the night of the murder." I sighed.

"Jane, there is nothing to say that. Just you and circumstantial theory." Even though I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice, I knew that he would be able to tell that I was sympathetic. That once again, I was beginning to doubt him. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to go talk to Manning now. I'd like you to watch, to tell us what you can, and I will try to get every little bit of information out of her, but the fact remains that I cannot twist facts to suit theories. You should know that by now." Yet still he comes up with these elaborate theories...

Jane said nothing, still staring through the window at Falcon.

"Jane, talk to me." Realising that his shoulders were shaking, I scooched closer still and leaned my left shoulder against his right one, pressing right against him for comfort. Slowly, shakily, he lowered his head onto my shoulder, twisting his body so I could gather him in my arms. Despite the length at which his frame was larger than mine, we seemed to fit rather well. It wasn't very comfortable, but he needed me. And if he was taking comfort in this small, loving gesture, then who was I to take it from him?

"Jane, Manning and Zelphino could still confess." My reassurance wasn't much, but I knew that he would appreciate the attempt even more than the actual comfort.

"It's not that I don't think we can get Red John for this. Now we know who they are, the evidence will follow, if we can only get a timeline up and running, and look at the connections. But they will make their deals, especially Zelphino. Red John is smart, and Zelphino is the brain of Red John. No doubt he's prepared for this moment, extensively. They know that they can't get off free, not now that we've got them in custody."

"You're worried that they'll go down and you won't get the revenge you think that you deserve." I concluded, darkly.

"The revenge that he deserves." Jane corrected quietly. "Understand, Lisbon-"

"I do understand!" I cried, pulling back from our embrace and looking deep into his eyes. "I understand that you feel you have to do this and I understand why. But you have to know that Red John has to go to trial. The justice system will determine the right punishment." Jane scowled darkly.

"The so called justice system will undoubtedly do it wrong."

"The justice that you think of is not right. Think about it Jane. You'll go to prison for a very long time, if not the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"

"Justice will be served." He replied simply, his voice quite cold, yet I refused to back down.

"That's not justice, Jane."

"Justice is a fluid concept. It adapts, sometimes extensively, to the people, circumstance and society around us. My concept of justice changed the second that I saw Red John's face on the wall." I could only imagine the scene he was remembering, from the information I had read in the Jane case file, and I had to breathe deeply to keep in my meagre breakfast.

"That's not the kind of justice we follow." I insisted, determined to change his mind. Keeping eye contact, and refusing to blink, I stared Jane out, my hands resting on his elbows. "We serve the law, Jane." I was utterly adamant, and I think he was beginning to realise it.

"Shaken, not stirred." I frowned, mocking anger, though I was immensely relieved that he had accepted my argument. For now, anyway.

"Shut up and follow me. We're supposed to go see Manning now - Rigsby's been waiting long enough." Pushing the chair back, I stood up, and he followed suit, but before I could turn around and walk away, his arm had snaked around my waist and he pulled me close. Despite how good it felt, I could not help but to listen to that niggling suspicion telling me that he was manipulating me. He had given in way too easy. "No tricks, Jane."

"What?" His body stiffened, and not in the good way, and the fond arm encircling my waist suddenly felt a lot more hostile.

"No games anymore. You know as well as I that this is not something I will give you leniancy with." He began to pull away, his hands now cold in their touch. "I don't know what's going on between us, but it doesn't change the way we work." I knew immediately that I had said the immensely wrong thing. For the second time that day, his eyes turned to ice as he regarded me with distaste.

"So you think that I kissed you because I want leeway in the case?" His tone was utterly disbelieving. "I knew that you have low self confidence, but this is way off base." Wait... low self confidence? Seriously?

"That's not what I meant." I hastened to say, still trying to comprehend what I had meant. I should really begin to think before I speak; it would solve a lot of problems.

"Teresa, you are the first woman I've opened up to in a long time; since Sophie, and for your information, I wasn't thinking about Red John when I kissed you earlier. I used to think of him when I looked at you - you were my route to him, but you began to matter more to me. You became my friend, and them you started to become something more still. I trust you, and I value your opinion and believe it or not, you mean one hell of a lot more to me than anyone else in my life." Pushing back, emotionally and physically, he broke eye contact with me and returned to his surveillance of Falcon, though I was unsure how much he could actually see through the dense haze of his thoughts. "And you thought that I was enough of an ass to use the woman I love as a shortcut to my revenge?" I stared at him, open-mouthed. Did he really mean that?

"I-" Could I possibly explain myself, or was he once more right about what I was thinking?

"Let's go talk to Manning." Roughly, he shouldered past me and out throught the door, a frighteningly determined expression set grimly on his face. He was gone before I had time to reply, and I was still reeling from his admission that I wouldn't have known what to say even if I had the time.

Once more I had managed to royally fuck things up.


	10. A Partnership Broken

_I know, I know, it's been a very long time, but I do have exams at the moment, and I really should be studying. Nevertheless, this week's episode inspired me. Plus, I already had it written, I just had to edit it. Anyway, please enjoy and I'll try to update as fast as possible. Also, thank you so much to all of the kind people who reviewed - they're really really appreciated on this end._

_-Seven x x _

* * *

**A Partnership Broken**

Irene Manning, aka Penny Lachney, aka whoever the hell else she had pretended to be in her lifespan, had absolutely no expression. I mean absolutely none. I wondered briefly if she had been injected with enough botox to freeze a rhino, because she did not even blink when I entered. I waited until she had, just to check that she was still alive, before sitting down across from her and speaking.

"My name is Agent Lisbon, do you know why you're here?"

"My client wishes to review the evidence implicating her before proceeding with this interview." The pompous, charcoal grey pant suit lawyer with a degree from Harvard told me, and I was very close to disembowling that pompous, charcoal grey pant suit lawyer with a degree from Harvard, but Rigsby spoke instead.

"We have new evidence against your client." Yeah, circumstantial evidence. "And we are willing to overlook the small matter of your client not having a birth certificate if she cooperates fully with out investigation." I hate making deals with murderers - the only thing that comforted me here was knowing that she would go down for Red John's crimes, no matter what deal she took. Irene Manning was destined to live out her rest in a dingy jail cell with a large lesbianic cellmate called Marge.

"State your evidence." Manning barked, sounding like a drill seargent. Rigsby leaned back, which was my cue to take control, producing pictures from the files which I had brought in with me. They were all of the Red John victims, and a small, barely controllable anger overcame me as Manning watched with calm, as so many people were set down, their entire lives represented as a single piece of paper. All those people, who died because of her.

And still her expression didn't change.

"You have undeniably definitive connections with these six victims of the serial killer Red John."

"Red John has sixteen victims." Manning clipped, in a self important tone. "That's only six, therefore your 'evidence' inconsequential unless I have a connection to the rest of the victims." Oh, she did _not _just use finger quotes when talking about my evidence.

"Rigsby, does she look like she's cooperating?" I asked, pretending that I was deep in thought, and Rigsby stretched slightly in his chair, flexing his large arms and smirking slightly.

"Nope boss, she don't look like she's cooperating." I nodded, shrugging, and leaning back in my own seat, locking eyes with Manning.

"That's what I thought too-"

"Fine!" Manning leaned forwards, placing her elbows on the pictures, and I felt that anger again at her lack of respect. "What do you want to know? Am I Red John? No."

"I want to know if you killed them." A normal person - an innocent person, would have looked confused. But I knew that she was involved by the unmistakeable 'oh shit' expression which took over her face. There was no innocence there - just someone who was looking to save her own ass.

"I thought that you said Red John killed them." Sure, she was good at this game, but I was better. Leaning forwards, being extremely careful to keep my expression as empty and cool as hers and not to break eye contact, I copied her movements, my own elbows placed between two of the photos which covered the entire interrogation table.

"Red John is two people." I ignored the worried look that Rigsby shot me, but I continued regardless. Jane was always right, whether I liked it or not. Doubting him was a stupid thing to do, especially so late in the game. "And to put it frankly, we think that you're one of them." With every passing second, I becam emore and more convinced that Jane was in fact right, and that I was making the right call.

"Because I used to be in contact with a couple of his victims?" There was a certain uneasiness about her tone, an undercurrent which I nearly missed which told me that I was using all of the right words, and pressing all of the right buttons. Hell, I might not be as psychic as Jane, but I've worked as an agent long enough to know all of the dirty secrets of human behaviour. "You need a little more than that, don't you?"

"Yes, she does." The pompous, charcoal grey pant suit lawyer with a degree from Harvard said, pointedly, and I recieved the distinct feeling that she was not pleased with my probing without evidence. She was getting antsy though - I could tell by the nervous twitch in her knee which she tried so hard to hide that it was more obvious than any movement would have been to start with.

Dear God. Jane really was rubbing off on me.

"I have it though." I took out the crime scene photos of the victims, and set them beneath their other photos, as a grim reminder of how they died. There was overlap, because the entire table was taken up. "You don't seem too affected by these images." Which possibly meant that she felt no remorse about her actions, unless she was really good at hiding it. That, or she had seen them before.

"I've seen worse." Manning said, staring straight at me as if staring into my brain with her ice cold stare. "I watch crime programmes on tv." She explained, with a tiny self confident smirk plastered on her face, as if there was some inside joke she knew that I wouldn't get.

"These six victims died differently than the others. There were small details which could only be described as _personal_. It won't just be coincidence that you knew these six people. Or that quite soon after they died, you disappeared, or moved away. You've changed your name five times, Penny, but we have the paper trails, and I can tell you that they _will _stand up in court." Visibly discouraged, Manning leaned back on the back two legs of her chair, and dragged a defiant, rebellious smirk onto her face.

"So what's your theory then?" She leered, trying to look tough. But she was slipping. There was a reason that Zelphino was the genius in the outfit - she was just the muscle. If that wasn't an advert for woman's rights in sport, I don't know what is. "I killed those people and John killed the rest?"

"No." I tried to keep my expression unreadable, though I wanted to leap with joy. "We think that you do the killing, and _John _does the planning and coverup." The pronounced way I said 'John' made her eyes flit down slightly, as she remembered with horror what I had tricked her into admitting.

"Yes, Red John." She bluffed, regaining her composure fast. "But you're wrong-"

"No, I'm not wrong." I contradicted, forcefully, and she fell silent, visibly cursing herself. "I'm right and we have enough evidence to pin the whole thing down on you." I only half lied, ignoring her lawyer. I could sense that my statement made Rigsby nervous, but he remained silent all the same. He was merely here for physical intimidation - something which five foot four myself could not achieve on my own.

Manning stared at the table, thinking, though I knew that she would take the deal I had basically just offered her. Not that it was much of a deal. She would pin as much down as she could on Zelphino, but she was still going away for a very long time. Unless she did something stupid and pleaded insanity.

"I want to make a deal." Oh, here we go. Pompous, charcoal grey pant suit lawyer with a degree from Harvard eyed her client nervously.

"State your terms." I said, coldly, ignoring the protest from Jane in my ear.

"I'll give you evidence implicating John Zelphino if I am charged only for the fraud." Did she seriously think that I was going to go for that? I smiled, graciously, lulling her into a false sense of security.

"No deal." I had what I wanted now anyway. The now not so pompous, charcoal grey pant suit lawyer with a degree from Harvard looked like she was about to thud her head off of the tabletop. Was it not covered with pictures of massacurred bodies. Jane fell silent in my earpiece, realising what I had been doing, and Rigsby started to clear the pictures of Red John's victims off of the table, calmly as ever. We were winning for the moment. "But," I continued. "if you don't give me the evidence implicating John Zelphino, you will be charged with the murders _and _the fraud." A_nd whatever the hell else we can find on you._

"I have no evidence-"

"You just said that you did." Manning glared at me, and if looks could kill, there would be a Lisbon shaped pile of dust on my seat.

"I'll give you the damn proof." She growled, knowing that she had been defeated. "But I want protection." She was very serious when she looked at me in that moment, and I understood exactly why. John Zelphino scared her - a lot. Enough to brave the system to be safe from him.

If that was enough.

"I can get you protection. But if your evidence is solid enough, Zelphino will be under out control. He won't be able to hurt anyone." If that wasn't incentive to give us some damn solid evidence, I don't know what is.

"I will give my testimony, every single bank transaction between us and the clients, and my plans." She said quietly. It clearly hurt her to do this, and I realised that she believed in Zelphino. He was her mentor, her lover and her role model. And now, after how well he had taken care of her, a teenage with a criminal record on the streets of Sacremento, she was selling him out to the cops.

"Plans of what?" I almost pitied her.

"You'll understand what went down better than we thought anyone would." She admitted, and I wondered if she was intentionally evading my question, in effort to procrastinate. "John made the plans, then I followed them to the letter. Like with the Kolinsky man - he gave me a plan, and preknotted ropes, and exact instructions, so it would look like a woman couldn't hoist him up in the air like I did. I kept all of the plans which I'd carried out, and those which were cancelled, or changed." As souvenirs, like all serial killers did.

My momentary sympathy for her dissapated as quickly as it had manifested.

"Where are they?" Rigsby was reading with his pen and notepad, though it was unlikely we were going to forget this location anytime soon.

"I have a part-time job at a hospital - St. Alvarea. The nurse staff lockers are on the third floor. I keep the plans in locker 261." Reaching into her shirt, she withdrew a silver chain, which had an old, battered looking key linked into it. "This is the key."

I reached over and took the key, wordlessly. Manning was a broken woman now - there was nothing more to worry about. She would tell us anything we asked because she had betrayed the man she loved and believed in. She had nothing left to believe in because she had never learned to believe in herself.

* * *

The whole department helped to go over the plans of the Red John murders. Everything that they depicted was identical to the case files. Both disgusted and intrigued, my team pored over the designs, along with a couple of other people from other departments, Joe among them. Since I felt bad for how I'd been treating him, I gave him a pat on the back and a smile, to show him that we really did appreciate his work. Ends up that a pretty face does come in useful sometimes.

I glanced down to some of the plans, littering the table, encased in their evidence bags. What had already been identified as Manning's fingerprints were smudged on the papers, sometimes even in blood. Zelphino's, in ink.

Jane was on his couch, staring through the clear evidence bag at a set of plans. Which ones, I knew before I even sat down beside him.

"Hey Jane." I said, quietly, but he didn't reply. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I'm sorry about pretty much everything that I've said to you in the last few days." He still did not reply. "And I was wondering if you wanted to be there when I tell Zelphino that he's officially fucked." Jane raised his eyebrows in my direction: his first response in the entire exchange.

"You'll willingly let me in the same room as him?" He sounded doubtful.

"Oh, there's a code." I assured him. "You stay in your seat. You don't antagonise, or wind up the suspect and you most certainly do not speak unless spoken to." I laid out. And this was just _part _of the code.

"Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon..." He sighed, giving me a tiny inch of what was usually a brilliant smile. "You know that I've never been that good with rules." I had to smile at his charm, as I always did. "But you don't have to do this because you feel sorry for me." Jane siad, turning his gaze back to the plan in his hands.

"Jane, I'm not doing this because I feel sorry for you." I snapped, and I obviously convinced him that I was telling the truth, because the gaze that he shot me was both surprised and guilty. "I am doing this because there are plans for five more murders that we have no intelligence on. These are the plans that have been carried out. We don't have the entire story, but we'll get it. And since you're the best at wheedling confessions out of people, I thought that maybe you'd come in useful." Jane sighed.

"I suppose I am." From the looks of it, he took no joy from that anymore. I smiled a little in reassurance.

"We should go now." I began to stand up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.

"Do you love me?"

"Pardon?" It's fair to say that I wasn't expecting that.

"Do you love me?" Slower and clearer, he asked again. "Don't worry, no one is listening." He added, as I subconsciously glanced around to see if there was anyone else nearby. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

"Jane..." He stared at me intently, and cocked his head to the side like a curious Golden Retriever puppy. "I don't know." I admitted, and with truth. "I just don't know right now. I mean, I couldn't bear if..." I broke eye contact, knowing that he understood what I meant.

He understood that I couldn't love a murderer.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Nodding slowly in agreement with me, he turned his gaze back to the paper in his hands, before clearly making a decision, and steeling himself as he stood, stretching in an almost normal Jane fashion.

"Yeah." He agreed, shooting me one of those brilliant smiles which I was beginning to miss. "Now we need to go tell Zelphino that he's officially fucked."


	11. The Why

_A/N:) Yes, I know. It's been far far too long. And, totally loving the finale's title (they so got that from me :P) even if it didn't live up to my expectations. Anway, here's the third last chapter - the other two will be up soon because I have a lot of spare time after my exams, and I have most of it written up somewhere and a really good idea of where. Enjoy, and remember to review, to tell me what you think! _

_-Seven x x_

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**The Why**

I don't know what it was which had possessed me to invite Jane along to the party. Maybe it was so simple that I believed he still deserved justice, even if he had to settle for my version as supposed to his.

"Mr. Zelphino, my name is Patrick Jane." Twenty seconds in and he broke the most important rule. I could tell that things would go downhill from here. Again - why the hell did I think that this was a good idea? "But you already know that, don't you?" Zelphino smiled at Jane pleasantly, and I could sense the anger beneath Jane's cool exterior, but he reigned it well. I would have been impressed had I not been busy scheming on how to get everyone out of the room alive.

"Yes, I believe that you were on the news, a good while back. Your story hit me hard. You wife had been killed, if I remember correctly." Jane kept an impressively even keel, as he knew that Zelphino was merely trying to provoke him. "And your little girl... what was she... six?"

Leaning forwards, I fully intended on taking control of the interview, but Jane's foot knocking against mine shut me up. I did not know whether I was playing right into Jane's hands, or if he was playing right into mine. I knew from the moment I offered him this opportunity, that he would bring something out in Zelphino that I alone would not be able to, or Cho, or Rigsby, or Van Pelt. Nevertheless, hearing the way that Zelphino was talking, I was now torn between breaking neither man, ot breaking both.

"Zelphino, we have forensic evidence linking you to all sixteen of Red John's murders. There is undeniable proof that you planned them and Penny Lachney, executed them, but I'm not here to talk about that." I watched the two men closely, seeing nothing and everything as they locked eyes, battling for the upper hand. "I just have one question: why draw that face?"

Zelphino blinked. The least he had expected of Jane was a guilt trip, or perhaps some mind tricks to make him admit he had killed those people. Which he had, and there was no longer any point in denying. He still had a card to play, and he held it up his sleeve at the ready as he stared Jane out, brown - almost black - eyes to blue.

It was a simple question. A blunt question. Not about his motivations, or his morality, merely a question which had been bothering him. Every night Jane had slept - or tried to - with that face watching over him, and every night - if he slept - it was in his dreams, laughing at him.

"I understand the name. Red John. It wasn't just to show that you were the average guy; that we could never find you in a country of billions. It was your version of an inside joke. But the face? That, I don't understand." Zelphino's smirk - which was the only expression he had worn thus far in - had faded, and had been replaced with an expression of shocked realization.

"You never knew?" He asked, almost incredulous that what he saw as so glaringly obvious had been overlooked. "I thought that you of all people would understand."

"Me, of all people?" _Understand what?_

"My message was that I was never Red John, Patrick, I was just the man who did Red John's bidding." Jane seemed almost angry at the almost friendly use of his given name, but once more he hid it well."You were wrong about the name, Patrick. Red John was everyone - a man that you will never find in a country of billions because he was never the same person twice. The only thing that these men-"

"Your contractors-" Jane corrected coldly, but Zelphino continued all the same.

"The only thing that they have in common is that they are the face. They are the face on the wall who watches as the people they yearned to hurt inflict pain on the people around them, even after their death, or who smiles down on their defeated enemy."

"You are Red John. You killed those people." I said, struggling to understand a twisted man's logic.

"I killed those people, Agent Lisbon." The murderer turned back to Jane. "But _Red John_ was Michael Falcon. Red John was the man who had your wife and daughter killed." Jane and Zelphino held out, each staring the other down, their eyes watering, both adamant to win the simple staring competition.

"John Zelphino, you are entitled to a lawyer. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. One of my agents will return shortly to state your accusations, and the evidence which we have against you."

"I know my crimes, Lisbon." Zelphino cut in, hastily. "Leave me and Patrick be, he wishes to ask me about his _real _Red John." I could see that he was baiting Jane, twisting him into asking him about the contractor who had ordered his wife and child dead, and no doubt into making a deal. He stood, suddenly, and I froze, unsure whether I would have to leap on Jane to stop him from leaping on Zelphino. But, much to my - and from the looks of it, Zelphino's - surprise, he merely smiled pleasantly.

"Actually, John, you and I have absolutely nothing to talk about." Jane chirped, and he sounded far too pleased with himself. "Now that you've answered my question, I will leave you in the capable hands of Agent Lisbon here."

"I can tell you the name of all of my clients." Zelphino jumped out with, though it was too quick. He was losing us, and he knew it, and he was going to say anything that we wanted him to, just to try and make his deals. Good luck with that, John.

"Listen to me, asshole." Kicking Jane's chair beneath the table with the air of someone no one wants to mess with, I leaned forwards onto the table. I was rather pleased to see that there was surprised and a tiny bit of fear in Zelphino's eyes. "I don't make deals with murderers." Jane seemed happy with my choice of words, if a little disturbed about the animosity of their deliverance.

"Your consultant will never know the Red John who killed his family." Zelphino sang, and his self-important crap, which had come back, was really starting to grate on my nerves. I felt silence behind me but I knew I would be admitting defeat if I looked around, signaling to Zelphino that he was in control. Would Jane really strike a deal with Zelphino, if it meant learning who had really killed his family?

"John, I'm disappointed in you." Jane finally broke his silence. "I thought that you'd have something better than that to convince me to stay." Zelphino's look could only be described as a glare, as Jane let out a tiny humorless chuckle. "You really think I'd fall for a contractor being the one to pay you money? We have tabs on all of your bank accounts, John. We know when payments are made and we can construct the why from the evidence you left behind. But you don't have a payment for my family." Jane rounded the room, standing behind Zelphino now as I stared him in the face, ignoring Cho's warning in my ear about Jane's proximity to the suspect. I guess I must trust him more than I thought.

"I do. It was in cash." Zelphino lied through his teeth - even I could tell, and I was no mentalist.

"No, what you did was personal." I joined in, earning myself a slight glance from Jane telling me that I was on the right track.

"I pissed you off, so you thought that you would destroy me." Jane came closer up behind Zelphino, even though his eyes never left mine. "And you know what, for three years, you did." It was wrong how proud his admission made Zelphino look. "But then I was able to pick myself up and make something of what was left of my life. And if I hadn't, we would not have known that you were responsible for the Red John murders."

"Karma, huh?" Zelphino joked nastily, and Jane leaned down, whispering something in his ear that even I could not hear. But Zelphino heard it, loud and clear, because his eyes widened slightly, no matter how hard he tried to control his emotions. Shooting Jane my best warning glare, he rounded the table, and stood once more beside me. Zelphino was silent, still dwelling on whatever Jane had said to him.

"One of my colleagues will be in shortly to help you with your legal needs." Even though I knew that the man had rights to a legal team, that didn't mean that I was happy about it. In my opinion, this man waived his rights the moment that he killed someone. Nodding to the window, to signal that it was Cho's time to shine, I started to walk away, holding the door open for Jane, who was oddly relieved to be out of the room.

I turned to him, once outside, and tried to keep my tone as snippy as possible.

"What the hell were you playing at in there? There were rules, Jane, and you disobeyed every single one of them." The smile on his face did not falter, and he stared at me happily through his blue eyes, which seemed clearer than before, as if the shadows behind them had left. "Jane, this isn't funny."

I am what some people would call an exemplary agent. I have a clean record, a long respectable record, and a commendation. I have reflexes faster than a cat on speed, but I still was unable to dodge as Jane pulled me into a full hug, so tight that my arms stuck out awkwardly in separate directions. Cho, smirked slightly as he walked past, and I shot him a glare before he disappeared into the interrogation room which we had just left.

"What was that for?" I spluttered, embarrassed as the agents all down the hallway raised their eyebrows at the exchange. Jane, as usual, just kept on smiling.

"For showing me what I really want. For years, Lisbon, years, I have wanted nothing more than revenge on that man. I didn't care about anyone except him, because he was the one who destroyed everything that I before cared about. I became obsessed. Then I met you. I know that I won't be ready for all the lovey dovey stuff that couples do, just yet, but I'm pretty sure that you've never been the lovey dovey sort." I nodded in confirmation, trying hard not to smile as I blushed furiously.

"Jane, what did you say to him in there?" I asked, not able to hold back my curiosity. Jane did not seem surprised that the question was coming, though Jane was never really surprised about anything.

"I might tell you some day." He procrastinated, strolling along the corridor with his hands in his pockets, with the air of a man who had all the time in the world.

"Why don't you tell me today?" I asked, matching him with my stride, and Jane sighed.

"I told him that I don't care about him anymore." I raised my eyebrows.

"And that's what made him go pale and hold the table so tight his hands went white?" I asked, critically, but Jane turned to me once more, nothing but truth in his big blue eyes. I noticed that we had somehow arrived at my office door, and I opened it, holding it open until he realized that I wanted him to come inside with me.

"He's spent months of his life making mine torture. While I was obsessed with finding him, he was obsessed with destroying me, every time that I thought I was making progress, he would show me that once more I was merely his puppet. That he was all I really cared about. That's all he cared about; he wanted the control and he wanted to watch me suffer as I disintegrated." Sitting down in my chair, he clasped his hands in his lap. "What might seem like a petty and childish comment to you, means the world to him."

"I think I understand." I sighed, and leaned against my desk, trying to frown at him, but being far too tired to do it with any real conviction. "You're in my chair, Jane." The smile was back, and I felt a small fluttering in my chest, as I had a brief flashback to when we had kissed.

"So?"

"So move." Jane looked like he was considering this for a moment, then grinned again.

"Make me." I rolled my eyes and rounded the desk, so we were facing each other, with nothing in our way. Inching forwards, I made no movement to actually touch him, so he leaned forwards, meeting me halfway. Jane took my hand, running his hands over the very unattractive scabs and scarred skin which had formed over the wounds which my Midnight Postman had inflicted. I had taken the bandages off, and he seemed contemplative.

"I guess we need to talk about that then." I sighed, not wanting to get involved in another investigation, so soon after the joy of catching Red John. Jane looked up at me, and his expression was worried.

"No talking, just promise that you'll get this taken care of. I can' t lose you now, Lisbon." That would mean that he'd lost everything. Red John, his wife, his child... he wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Jane," I began, taking my hand from his grip and glancing around my office at the pulled blinds, before walking straight up over him, as he leaned back in my chair. "the only reason that I didn't make this known was because I didn't want it interfering with the Red John case. Now, I have no qualms in calling this in." Jane smiled, almost proudly, before letting his eyes rove slightly over my body, which he realized was very, very close above his.

"What else do you have no qualms about?" He asked, cockily, and I raised my eyebrows, wondering if he was implying what I thought that he was implying.

"Mr. Jane, are you propositioning me?" I asked, pushing myself even closer to him, and his hands rose to my hips, a slightly hungry look flashing across his deepening eyes as he played with the material of my shirt.

"Miss Lisbon, whatever gives you that idea?" He replied, the playfulness in my tone causing him to shiver slightly. A woman hadn't made him feel like I did now, not for over six years. "I was merely asking a question!" And that smile... try as he might, he could never get the image of my face out of his head.

The look on his face told me so.

I was the only thing that had ever been able to force Red John's face to the back of his mind. The only thing which could make him forget.

Stretching slightly uncomfortably, but not caring, he caught my mouth under his, and I lowered herself onto his lap, melting into his frame. No. He didn't care about Red John. He was gone - his mystery was solved. The puzzle was complete and now it was going to be taped up in a box and left in the attic. Always accessable, when needed, but decidedly distant all the same.

Jane mumbled something suspiciously like 'Elephant juice' into my mouth.


	12. The Midnight Postman by Day

**The Midnight Postman by Day**

Jane was smiling a great deal more than usual as the team rendezvoused in the bullpen. I was also grinning like an idiot, knowing not only that the nightmare was over, but also that Jane had a reason to be smiling more than usual. None of the others appeared to notice, which I was extremely thankful for. Cho was just telling me about how he'd arranged the court dates, and the evidence, when I felt a hand on my arm. Not a grasp, not a grope, just a touch; one which I knew very well because I had felt it in my office merely a few hours ago.

"Cho really good, but take a break. Let's go out and celebrate." The arrogance in Jane's voice was well earned, this time. "May I?" Cho nodded, giving us the one over and actually giving me a tiny shake of his head before walking away, toward Rigsby, Van Pelt and Joe, along with a few other agents who had helped us along the way on the case.

"We must stop meeting like this." I said, dryly, as he led me to his couch, and leaned back on it. "Remember that we can't act different around the guys." Jane smiled.

"First of all, Cho already knows. He's quite perceptive, I've noticed. Second of all, I'm good with that. Work stays at work-"

"Personal stays personal." I finished, almost smiling too. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"I think we need to talk again." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Jane, it's only been an hour since our last 'talk'." Jane shrugged.

"In all fairness, Lisbon, there wasn't much talking involved. Plus, this isn't about your situation with the biting envelope." Uh-oh. I knew what this was about. As soon as he looked at me, there was no hesitation in his eyes.

"Jane, I meant what I said earlier." He cocked his head to the side. "I don't know how I feel about you yet. There are so many factors, that they're just controlling me, and right now, I just want to take things as they go." There was too much to think about. Every time I asked myself if I loved him, so many questions erupted in my head, which I did not know how to answer. The job, his wife, his mind-reading.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you said that you could not love a murderer." Jane said, referring to my earlier thought, rather than my earlier words, per se. And this was the man seriously insisting that psychics don't exist. "I'm not a murderer, Lisbon. I could have. I could have hypnotised manipulated or forced my way into that room and killed that bastard the same way that he killed my family, but I didn't." I stared at him, open-mouthed, not caring that I looked like an idiot.

"You did that for me?" I whispered, because I could barely believe it. While he didn't answer, I gauged form his truthful cerulean eyes that he wasn't lying to me, and hoped that I was right.

"I don't think you completely understand." He did not seem angry that I didn't understand, he seemed almost amused, and he moved his hand closer to mine, not conspicuously close, but near enough to constrict my breathing slightly. "I would do _anything_ for you."

Did he mean that?

"Hey boss, you two ready?" Rigsby's booming voice was barely audible through the chatter and bustle of the excited office, but he managed to interrupt Jane and mine's moment effectively all the same.

"Sure, is everyone here?" I looked over, averting my eyes from Jane's hopeful face and fixing them on my team. "Where's Joe?" Rigsby sighed.

"Does Joe have to come?" He grumbled, and I felt Jane's eyes ease off of me as he turned his attention to Rigsby.

"You just don't like him 'cause he's prettier than you." I chided, and he pretended to huff, making Van Pelt giggle. It was really a mark of how relaxed everyone was that even Cho was smiling, albeit slightly. "But seriously guys. Minelli said originally that he wasn't going to send anyone over, but apparently Joe volunteered. And he was very good when compiling the evidence for the court case." I added, and Rigsby sighed, before nodding in concession.

"S'pose so, boss." He mumbled.

"Good. Now that we're all agreeing," I glanced around them, looking for the man in question, who I'd seen merely a few minutes ago. "Where is he?" My team looked around themselves, as though expecting him to appear automatically.

"Maybe he went back to his department to tell them that he's no longer assigned to us." Cho offered, impassively, and I shrugged.

"That sounds about right. Tell you what: you guys go wait by the van and I'll run and try to find him. If he's not there, then we can leave him behind." Rigsby sounded especially pleased with this plan, and I laughed at him, before hurrying away, to the stairwell. I needed time to think about my situation, with the Midnight Postman; with Jane.

I couldn't stop thinking about his words. There was no endgame for him anymore. He had absolutely nothing to gain from lying to me, for Red John was as good as dead to use. Even if Jane changed his mind, there was no way he could get to Red john through me. There was no point in lying to me.

Which, in turn, led me to believed that he was telling the truth. That he would indeed to anything for me.

With a wide and probably inappropriate grin plastered onto my face, I approached the main office in the IT level, belonging to an agent named Bonde, who I had worked with a couple of times on past cases.

"Come in." A male voice called, as I knocked, so I peered through the door, catching the form of a large bearded man who reminded me of a friendly grizzly bear. Agent Bonde stood, booming something which sounded suspiciously like 'Agent Lesbian' and motioned for me to come in and sit down. "What can I do for you, Agent? Congratulations on the Red John case, by the way. The whole Bureau's proud of you." Wow. I'm a celebrity.

"Thanks, I just came down to see if Joe was here, or if he's gone home yet." The pure look of confusion told me that either I had messed up my sentence structure again, or there was something terribly wrong.

"Joe?" The ironically christened James Bonde shook his head. "I'm sorry; I don't know who you mean." Uh-oh. Swallowing hard, I hoped that there was a nice, well-rounded and simple explanation for everything.

"Joe Dormand, he volunteered to come down and work some systems for us for the Red John case." Once more I was replied with a dumb blink, and my smile quickly faded. "You didn't authorise a transfer?"

"I'm sorry Agent, but I think you're mistaken. I had to let Joe Dormand go a couple of months ago – he was harassing some of the female members of his team." I frowned at him, wondering if this was some sort of strange, perverted joke. Something clicked in my mind, and a horrifying thought crossed my mind.

"When exactly was he laid off?" I asked, dreading the answer. Bonde, who was looking worried at the strange turn of events, thought back.

"January, fifteenth I think..." Moving some of the papers around on his desk, he mumbled, trying to find something in particular. "I can check." He didn't need to check. He was right – it fitted the timeline perfectly.

Serial killers have triggers – an action or event which pushes them over the edge, and begins them on their killing spree. It could be a rejection, a death in the family, or a job loss. I stood there, open-mouthed, as I remembered back to the first victim of my Midnight Postman, his first kill having been January twentieth. Less than a week after Joe lost his job.

"Call security and tell them to keep an eye out for him." I almost shouted, pushing myself out of the door and back towards the stairs, knowing that the elevator would take too long. Bonde moved towards his phone, forehead creased in worry, and that was the last thing I saw before I turned the corner, out of the office and into the stairwell.

And guess who I ran into on the third floor landing.

"Agent?" Joe held me tight at arm's length, confusion on his face. In my hurry, I had gone hurtling down the stairs towards my team, and ran into the very man who I was trying to escape. It would have been better to just stay in the IT department. Too late now, though. "Agent Lisbon, is something wrong?" Yes, yes Joe. Something is very, very wrong. You're my Midnight Postman.

The fear must have shown in my eyes, because he backed away, frowning slightly down at me with his tall form, which I never realised was so large.

"No, nothing's wrong." I choked out. "I was just looking for you. We're going out for celebratory drinks, and we thought that you'd like to come." I adopted my best poker face, and even forced a tiny smile at him. In a similarly unconvincing fashion, Joe's handsome face split into a grin, and he suddenly didn't seem so pretty anymore. He seemed a lot more... rough around the edges.

"Why were you running?"

"I've always had the philosophy that if we run everywhere, not only do we get a workout, we also get where we're going a lot faster." In what way was that an explanation? Despite the unconvincing nature of my reasoning, Joe merely laughed, and shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"I suppose you're right. I just never thought of it that way." He rocked back on his heels, not breaking eye contact. He knew. He knew that I knew. I knew that he knew that I knew. I just knew it. "So are we going or not?" He was challenging me to turn my back on him. To prove that I only wanted him to come downstairs, but I couldn't trust him. I could take him down, but he was an agent too, and he was no doubt strong. The women – his victims – which he had overpowered, were not weak women, and though neither was I, I still was no bodybuilder.

"Yeah, let's go." I began to turn, waiting until he was directly behind me, then whirling around again and pushing out, I realised too late that he had been expecting me to do everything. I was playing right into his creepy sicko hands.

So there we were, caught in a motionless struggle at the top of a flight of stairs, both scrabbling for the upper hand, and knowing that if one went down, the other was going with them. Joe appeared to pull away slightly, his arm crushing both of mine tight against my body so I could do nothing except kick him and scream for help, then I felt a strange stinging sensation against my thigh. Then I remembered.

He drugged his victims so they couldn't fight back.

Consciousness waning, I began to scrabble less frantically, my sense of time wavering. I was so, so tired. All I wanted to do was to sleep. It would be okay. Everything would be okay, if I just shut my eyes.

Not knowing when or if I would be able to wake up again, my eyes fluttered shut, succumbing to the kind, soothing medicine which was running in my blood.

Fighting could wait. Tonight I had to sleep.

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_Tell me what you think, and I'll update. Well I'll update anyway but I'd really appreciate feedback. :D_

_-Seven x x _


	13. Starting Something

**Starting Something **

Death is a lot more painful than they make it look in the movies. While the falling asleep was... just like going to sleep, the waking up was painful as hell.

Wait a minute. Dead people don't wake up, unless you believe in the afterlife, which I don't. I gave up on that when I stopped visiting my mother's grave. Slowly, hating every second of it, I tried to open my eyes, even though I knew it would only cause me pain. I had to do it eventually.

Bright lights were everywhere, blinding me so I could not see where I was. Was I with Joe? Kidnapping was not his MO, but I suspected that he had only been following me to show me that no woman was safe, not even the one who was supposedly looking for him. His message had been conveyed successfully, and I was pretty pissed off that he had to do it so violently.

Shapes moved around me, and voices hushed as I tried to blink the blurriness from my eyes.

"Shh! She's waking up." A woman's voice stage whispered, and the shapes began to converge towards me, making the room a little darker. I was able to open my eyes fully, my vision registering the wide-eyed, concerned face of Patrick Jane.

Grinning, I pretended to groan, overdramatically.

"I knew it, I'm in hell." My team laughed, happy that I was alive, and Jane raised one eyebrow.

"I've been told that I look like an angel, actually. It's those with dark hair who are in league with the devil." Trying my best to roll my eyes, I stifled a yawn. Christ, I was still tired.

"What happened?"

"You met Joe on the stairwell." Van Pelt informed me, quickly, and I resisted the urge to sigh as I pulled myself up painfully into a sitting position, swatting away Jane's hands as he tried to help.

"I remember that part. I mean how did you know that I was missing, and did you get him?" Jane sat down in the chair next to my bed, staring at me intently and letting the others do the talking, for once.

"Security caught him because Agent Bonde called it in." Cho told her, his voice serious. "There was really no risk, because you were found almost immediately, even though Joe refused to tell anyone where you were." Shaking my head, I rubbed my eyes. It felt like there was a wrench twisting behind my eyes, but I had to pretend that I was in no pain as my employees were there. Pain was weakness, and even though I loved them more than I cared to admit, I was still their boss, and weakness was not an option for a Special Agent in Charge.

"What did the sonovabitch give me?" I groaned, trying to keep myself conscious, even though I was so dreadfully tired.

"Something which no one can remember the name of." Van Pelt joked from the side, and I decided that she was right. I wouldn't know what the name meant if I heard it, so all that really mattered is that I had it. "It's out of your system by now, but you're still recovering. The doctor said that you'll be tired for a couple of days, but you'll get over it." I smiled at her, not caring that I looked weak anymore. I'm sure that they could deal with it.

"But he's in custody, and he confessed to his full involvement. Don't worry, boss, he's going so far down for this that we can't even hope for where he's going to end up." Rigsby assured me, and his effort made me feel a little better. I was gaining strength by the minute.

As I turned my face and my gaze upwards, I became aware of one pair of beautiful blue eyes, which were fixated steadily on me. Trying not to look directly at them, as I knew that I would be instantly lost to my inner Teresa and ask him to hold me like some sort of movie sensation damsel, I instead turned myself upon the rest of my team, not having to force the smile onto my face. It came naturally now, around these people who I think have begun to think of me like their mother.

Mother Teresa. How fitting.

The four faces which stared back at me... faces which I guess I've learned to love. From the beginning, when I was just promoted to Agent in Charge, Cho was _my_ agent. He was the best – the only one who didn't care where I'd been, or who I'd been with, or who I was with at the time, he merely wanted to work. That worked for us. We didn't speak much, and I cannot remember a single occasion where we both smiled at the same time, but we worked well together, and he had been so faithful to me ever since. I don't know what I would've done without Cho.

Rigsby was a typical agent. There was nothing exemplary or below average about him. A high school jock with a conscience, I decided was the way to define him most accurately. Or perhaps a giant teddy bear, who only hurt bad guys. He was sometimes a bit of an idiot, but he was still one of my idiots. And I thought he and Van Pelt is cute, even though I would never, never, never admit it to their faces. I'm just not that kind of girl.

Eager to please – too eager, I thought originally – that was how Van Pelt seemed when she joined my team. She still thought that she had something to prove to me, but that's where she was wrong. There was nothing that she ever needed to prove to any of us anymore. I knew that the rest of the team, and the department for that matter, had accepted her as one of their own.

And there was Jane. God, I didn't even know where to start. I'd heard of his story, and his success rate, from Minnelli, but I hadn't quite believed my ears when he said that he wanted him to work with me. You see, I knew from word everywhere I went that Jane was infuriating and egotistical, and when I started working with him, I decided that no one else knew the half of it. He wasn't just infuriating and egotistical, he was incredibly infuriating and egotistical, and what was even worse was that every time I imagined him naked, he could so totally tell.

I don't know where things became easier. If anyone were to ask, I would insist that it never became easy at all, and this was still as hard as day one. I still didn't know what was going through his head. He still knew exactly what was going through mine. In fact, the only thing which had really changed in my views of him was that I didn't mind so much anymore when he charmed me into buying him lunch, or into carrying the law suits away from his brown leather couch and keeping them there. I never would have expected it, but I guess that this is what love feels like.

Even when he sits in front of me, staring at me as if he was expecting me to say something, I realised that I didn't have a clue where our relationship stood. He would do anything for me. He trusted me. He'd made everything clear, but I still didn't know what to expect from him. Even though we made out on my desk, I didn't know if he expected me to love him or be his boss. Until then, I guess that I'd have to settle for being both.

"I'm glad that you found me." I said to him, quietly, even though all of my words were far beyond inaudible in the small, crowded hospital room. Rigsby and Van Pelt traded a slightly awkward glance, and I swear I saw Cho smile slightly as he said:

"Oh look; a distraction." My other two agents peered out of the window Cho was pointedly looking out of then followed him out, Van Pelt smirking while Rigsby seemed rather confused and had to be dragged out of my room. I smiled as they disappeared, knowing that they had understood my none too subtle plea for their absence. Turning back to Jane, I realised that he had scooched closer still to my bedside, and was fidgeting with my hand, which he had at some point taken into his own.

"Listen, Teresa, I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the trail of Red John, I opened up to you. I've already shown you that I'd do anything for you, and I hope that you know that even though I've been to hell and back, I wouldn't change one thing because now I am here, with you, and I can't think of another place on heaven or earth where I'd rather be." I felt tears welling up on my eyes, my inner Teresa making herself known to the world. Shit... I can watch 'Titanic' with a straight face, but I cry at _this_? "And I just want you to know that whatever you decide, I'm still going to love you, and no matter how many times that you try to get rid of me, I will come back." A smile was starting to appear on his face though I knew what he was saying was serious.

"Even if I try to shoot you?" I asked, knowing that if we started a relationship that issue would certainly come into the equation at one point or another. Things have to bump a little to run smooth after a while. Jane grinned at me, and I tried not to drool in my drug-induced state as I grinned back.

"Even _when_ you try to shoot me." He replied, wisely replacing the conditional in my sentence. "The only question here is whether you want me in your life, or if you're still unsure of what you want." He was absolutely sober now; his smile had faded. "You know that I'll wait forever, but I really, really don't want to." Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I tried to sit up straighter; clearing the fuzz in my brain which was the after affect of whatever Joe had drugged me with.

"Jane, you know as well as I do that we're both..." I struggled for words, trying not to sound too much like the people in movies. They may get their happy ending, but they sound so damn stupid that the end is undermined by the cringing at the inevitable 'I love you' line. "We are both colleagues," his face visibly fell. "But," his eyes returned to their hopeful, puppy dog stare, and I resisted the urge to hug him. "Whatever happens between us stays so far out of the office that no one knows about it. When I'm at work, I'm Lisbon, and you do what I say."

"Like usual."

"At work, nothing changes. Out of work hours and on long car journeys, we can be Teresa and Patrick." I squirmed slightly, and he smiled.

"You don't like calling me Patrick." He surmised, for me, and I shrugged guiltily. Maybe it would come with time, but he would always really be Jane to me. "At home we can be Teresa and Jane then."

"You like calling me Teresa?" _Probably only because I hate it._

"Only because you hate it." I frowned. This was coming from the man who protested that psychics did not exist. "So you're ready to start something." Something? Something? What is this something that he speaks of? Is it dangerous, or is it wise?

Glancing around my hospital room, I realised suddenly that a man with a beard and a mandolin was not going to suddenly jump out from the bathroom and sing me the answer to my silently asked question. This realisation hit me harder than I thought it should, so I returned to the normal world from my visualisation of such a character and such an act, to find Jane staring at me in amusement. Trying not to smile, but not being strong enough to resist such a pretty face, I tried to frown.

"I guess I am." I said, surprising myself.

Jane smiled, and squirmed slightly in his seat, clearly overjoyed. For what felt like the first time, I felt no reservations in grinning back.

...

_A/N:) There you go... second last chapter. The next one should be up shortly... I've half written it, I just had a lot of stuff to do lately and inspiration was not striking. But I hope you enjoyed the ride... please review and leave feedback for me._

_-Seven x x_


	14. Read my Mind

_So here it is... the long ( and I mean LONG ) awaited final chapter of Red Sky in the Morning. I know, I've been at it for the best part of a year, but seriously. This is it. It is finished, and there is nothing else to say about it. I would like to thank all the wonderful people who read, reviewed and favourited this story, and I would like them all to know that it means a lot to me. You've all been very kind to me, and I hope that you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks again..._

_-Sevendayslater x x_

* * *

I was picked up from the hospital a few days later, once all the doctors had ran their tests, and once the nurses had cooed over Jane sufficiently. We packed up my duffel bag which Van Pelt had picked up from my apartment for me, and I was loaded into the rickety car which Jane seemed to love so much. Despite my dislike for his driving, I knew that it was a worse idea for me to drive, in my weakened and fairly tired state, so I curled up in the passenger's seat and let him take the lead.

However, as we rounded a corner on two wheels, I was beginning to re-evaluate my decision.

Arriving at my apartment in probably record time, I informed him that I had never seen someone live through driving like that and in future, no matter what condition I was in; conscious or not, I was going to be the one in the driver's seat. Jane, as usual, just smiled and bowed, before picking up my duffel bag and carrying it as he led me into my apartment like some sort of overdressed bellboy.

It was clean, if a little dusty, when I arrived. I must have left the window open before I left for work, on the day of my injury, because it was very cold, and there were a couple of spiders and other crawlies which had gained access through the open slit. I immediately rushed to shut it. There was something about open windows which had always freaked me out... and it was nothing to do with the arachnids and moths. Open windows were access for serial killers and cold air: two of my least favourite things. Jane dropped my duffel bag onto my couch and turned around, his arms crossed as he leaned languidly against the armrest. After closing the window, I turned around to see him doing so, and narrowed my eyes.

"What?" I asked, as I realised that he was watching me with a smug smirk planted on his lips. Did I have something on my face? "What's wrong now?" He pushed himself off of the armrest, still smiling, and strolled over to me in his usual self-important way.

"Nothing." He informed me, placing his hands on both of my shoulders, making me feel frighteningly and irrationally safe. "Everything is perfect." Cocking his head to the side, he stared at me. "Red John is gone. You're okay. I'm okay. We're pursuing a line of romanticism which could someday soon end up with sex. Everything's pretty good with me." His shockingly blue eyes twinkled playfully in the crisp morning light from the window, and I rolled my eyes obviously, in the way which I always did, letting my hands move up to his waist, and allowing him to hold me against his chest.

It felt so normal, that it felt surreal.

He blessed my right temple with a soft, tender kiss, which brushed my skin with such comforting warmth that I shuddered. I knew now why he hadn't moved on me before: he hadn't kept away because he didn't know about my attraction towards him. He knew, and he'd known that for a while now. The only thing that had been standing between him and something resembling happiness was Red John. But now Red John was gone, and the metaphorical traffic jam between our two junctions had cleared, and both of our lights were green.

Holding tightly to the sides of his suit jacket, I turned my head to connect with those mesmerising cerulean eyes, my face tipped upwards towards his. For once, I didn't care about how vulnerable our body language made me. There was a hotness brewing inside of my belly that I hadn't felt in a long time... if ever. I'd imagined this moment – embarrassingly, dozens of times - but never in a million years could I expect how incredibly deep his eyes were, or how hard I had to work in an effort to stop my knees giving out from underneath my body. They were hypnotising and full of different colour, the more I stared at him.

And for the first time in the air between us, there were no restrictions or regulations; there were no snarky or sarcastic comments flying in the space, merely the heat and the desire and the spark that we had felt since day one, but never had the opportunity or the urge to act upon. I couldn't help but to tell him that I loved him, and I wasn't surprised that he just smiled and told me that he knew.

Of course he did.

The hands on my shoulders were migrating, slowly, down to my hips where they stayed, completely still and steady, as his eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a deep breath, leaning over to rest his forehead on mine. Almost smiling, I pushed my hips ever so slightly towards him, causing him to prematurely exhale through his nose, and for a deep throaty groan to follow it out. For once, I was not the one forcing my body to control itself. Trying my best not to smile, not because the situation was funny but because it was ironic, I slipped my hands around the flaps of his suit jacket and slid them around his torso so I was able to press my chest up against his.

I could feel his muscles tense as he tried not to buck his hips in my direction. Patrick Jane was losing control, and I caused his complete loss of concentration. Feeling oddly vindicated, I backed away from him, and caught his eyes again, which had just reopened, even clearer and deeper than before. Stifling another smile, I walked away from him, over to my bedroom door, which I opened and slipped inside, leaving it slightly ajar. I could hear him pause by his silence, then the footsteps as he slowly followed me, his curiosity and his desire overpowering his sense of boundaries. As usual.

My body was now alert, and seeking immediate attention, and I pulled my shirt over my head, and managed to slip off my pants before the door swung almost soundlessly open, revealing an almost hungry looking Jane. Unreservedly, I grinned at him, then spread my arms and allowed myself to fall backwards onto my mattress, which gave me a cushioned reception. The ceiling was all I could see, and it was blank and white. It had been inspiration for many daydreams and fantasies, where Jane's body was on top of mine, pounding me into the mattress.

I wasn't surprised when the bed dipped slightly, and that same face looked down at me, obscuring the boring white plaster, and I wasn't surprised when he moved down to kiss me, but I was surprised when I felt his lips touch mine and it was real. However much I know that this is reality, I still keep thinking that this is just another fantasy because quite frankly, I can't remember a time when I had felt so happy.

His hands planted themselves on either side of my belly button, and I made absolutely no attempt to move them, instead squirming under his touch. I let him take control, allowing his tongue to discover my mouth from every angle before I arched my back away from the bed, telling him that I needed him to do more. Jane was more than happy to oblige, and he moved his hands up to rest on my breasts, hooking his fingers in the bottom of my sports bra.

"Always about practicality, aren't you Lisbon?" He mumbled teasingly into my mouth, and I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, knowing that from this angle, he couldn't see me do so, but also knowing that it didn't matter. Jane always saw.

"Yes I am." I groaned, allowing the silly smile that he had brought to my face stay there. "But who cares about looking when you can touch?" As if this was permission, Jane took it as his cue to slip his hands underneath the bra, pulling it up over my breasts, so he had complete access. Dipping his head, he massaged my left breast gently with one of his hands, treating my right one to the sensational feeling of his lips and his tongue. I gasped as his teeth grazed lightly over the hardened nub before circling it with his incredibly hot tongue, and he pulled his head away from my chest to look me in the eye. One of his eyebrows was raised, and I frowned at him, trying to stop my body shaking in anticipation as I lay at his fingertips.

"What?" I asked, for the second time since we had entered the apartment, though this time my tone was decidedly more playful.

"You're very..." He ran his hand from my breast down my side, and rubbed my hip in slow, hard strokes. Shuddering despite knowing that he was mocking my reactions, I let my head fall back onto the pillow. "Responsive." He finished, burying his face in my neck and once more using that beautifully scorching tongue to toy with my sensitive skin without leaving a mark.

Responsive? Was he Jane mocking, or was he really making fun of me? I tried not to react, though the fire died down momentarily at my indecision and insecurity. Jane – obviously – noticed, and pulled away once more to look me in the eye.

"It's not a bad thing." Kissing me tenderly on the cheek, he whispered to me in my ear, his lips brushing and his breath tingling. I could feel a small smile come onto Jane's face. "No really, I quite like it." I giggled at his... Janeness. Another kiss and I was arching my back again, the fire relighting, possibly brighter and more heated than before.

His hands were everywhere, and in the right places. Fluttering up and down my sides in a way which he knew were tickly but not quite tickly enough to make me laugh, just to make me squirm. Cupping my butt, he lifted me slightly, throwing me off balance, and once more reducing my body to putty at his fingertips. God it was great to make out with a psychic. Because no matter how much he denied it, there was no way that he could know things like that about me. Like that I secretly would like to be underneath him.

Finding my hands, after lying there limply for a few minutes as he worked his magic on my body, I reached down and began to unbutton his pants, knowing that I needed him now. We had played long enough. Since he had discarded his jacket and waistcoat before even arriving at my apartment, and had left them in the car due to the warmness of the journey, Jane only needed one hand to unbutton his shirt, and shake it off his shoulders, not once taking his eyes from mine. Allowing him to undress himself, I did a sit-up, and pulled my sports bra over my head, flinging it into a corner. I wouldn't need it for a while.

When I returned my attention back to Jane, he was completely naked and staring at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And God it felt good to be stared at like you're the most beautiful thing in the world, because I have never been the girl who was the most beautiful in the room. I was the girl who got things done and kicked ass and had a badge which would let me almost anywhere in California. Heads have never really turned when I walked into a room.

But in that moment, I felt more beautiful than any other woman I had ever met because he wasn't over at their apartments, touching their skin and kissing their lips, he was here with me.

Pulling him down to me by a strong grip on his shoulders, I met his lips again, not being able to resist the intimacy. I could feel his excitement, pressed up very obviously against my thigh, and I squirmed and adjusted the position of my hips until we were aligned. The only thing that stood in our way now was my panties, which he hooked his fingers in, and started to tug down across my ass, exposing the flesh and the dark hair which they had obscured.

Placing another kiss on my lips, this time with his mouth closed, he waited for me to raise my backside off the covers, so he could wiggle off the only remaining item of clothing with more ease. I did so, enjoying how hot his bare skin felt against mine. Wanting and needing more contact, I thrust up my hips against him, before kicking the panties off my foot where they had come to rest, and wrapping my leg tightly around him, not allowing my body to fall back against the mattress. There was no space between us anymore. Nothing to hold us back.

He let his hand roam back down to the back of my thigh then palpated the flesh of my bottom, grinding his hips in a way which made him moan and the breath catch in my throat. We found our rhythm, where our hips moved, and our bodies tensed, and we moaned and groaned in complementary time with one another, as if our minds were inextricably linked, and although he wasn't inside of me, I felt like we were already part of something so intensely intimate that I think a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.

And then he pushed himself so deep inside of me that I felt like I was going to scream, but I held myself back, though my breath came in uncontrollable pants, and my chest heaved against his as we moved, if possible, closer, and although we were only just getting started I felt myself nearing the peak of what I could only describe as heaven. For what felt like eternity and what felt like seconds, we rocked and cradled one another, fitting into each other's bodies like they were designed that way.

I was in sensory overload, with the musky smell of sweat and the feel of slick skin, moving across mine and slipping and sliding and pleasuring my nerves more and more, while I could feel his mouth full of coffee tasting warmth and all I could hear was my own voice, as if from a distance, whimpering and whining desperately in a way which was so not me, and when he pulled away, ready to drive into me that time that he knew would push me over the edge, all I could see was those bright, bright cerulean eyes.

When he drove into me and I tried not to make a noise, my body convulsing with overloading pleasure, he drove harder. I tried to keep silent, but his voice in my ear, telling me to scream, was overpowering, and I felt that there was no choice left for me than to do as he told.

The moment that I let him hear my pleasure, that I opened my mouth and let my orgasm pour out in sound waves, was the most glorious release that I had ever felt.

It released him as well, and I felt him pouring himself into me and it was like I had felt before. It wasn't like in the romance novels where I had never had a decent lover, and that I hadn't felt anything like a man in me before, but the truth was that it felt like most sex that I had participated in before... only better.

With a grunt and a drawn out moan which only kept me held on longer, he slowed his body to rest, huffing into my neck while trying to recuperate. I stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily and trying to do the exact same thing.

Eventually, he pulled himself from me, exposing me again to the cold air of the space which his body had left. Shivering, I felt much better when I felt the same body which had just left me pulling me to his side, even though I don't think either of us could handle the heat which we were generating together. It was the intimacy that we were looking for, and we found it.

Although it felt terribly clichéd and awfully silly, I let a stupidly moronic grin onto my face, and when I looked up at his face, I realised that he had one very similar on his own face.

"I've been thinking of moving house." He said, abruptly, and I raised my eyebrows, turning my attention to his chest, which was directly in front of me in our odd but strangely comfortable position. Tapping my fingers against his breastbone and flattening out my palm to feel the heartbeat that was thumping loudly beneath it, I rested my forehead against him, listening intently as his voice rumbled through his chest once again. "I just think that... now Red John is gone, I don't really want to be there anymore." He sighed, and his arm flopped over my shoulder so his fingers rested on my hip again. "I think that it's time for a change."

"Well if you need somewhere to stay..." I said, before I could stop myself, and for once, I wasn't second guessing myself. I wasn't offering him an extra room, or life on the couch, and I wasn't just offering for him to move in with me because we had just had some seriously mind blowing sex. I honestly meant what I said... for once.

I sensed his surprise by the moment of shock where he held his breath, but then he exhaled heavily, and I felt my hair move as it was disturbed from its place splayed across the white sheets.

"You don't think that it's a little soon?" There was no hesitance in his voice, merely surprise. He had no reservations, and I knew that. He was making sure that I wasn't making my choice based on the aforementioned awesome sex.

"A little soon?" I laughed a little about the irony of his statement. "You can read my mind, for Chrissakes!" I couldn't see him from the angle we were at, but I knew that he was smiling. I could just tell.

Jane lifted his head, and bent his neck so his lips grazed against my ear, and sure enough, they were definitely shaped into a smile.

"Let me tell you a secret, dear Teresa..." He said, and I resisted the urge to giggle and squirm against his chest, wondering what he was going to say. "I can't actually read your mind." I smirked into his chest.

_Sure you can't._


End file.
